


The Greatest of These

by PixelByPixel



Series: Death Takes a Holiday [10]
Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: (But not the red dress though that is one as well), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angelic genetics or lack thereof, Angels watching, Awkward Conversations, Azrael does not set up another sibling, Azrael returns to the Silver City, Azrael speaks her mind, Azrael talks about sex without saying it (again), Babies as human shields, Coffee, Coffee of course, Dad speaks but doesn't give much in the way of answers, Dad's views on oral hygiene, Dan finds out and is pretty sure he's going to Hell, Everybody knows but poor Dan and he is getting suspicious, Farewells, Feels? Maybe feels, Gen, Good Big Brother Lucifer, Good mom Chloe, Inadvertent fairytale reference, Linda needs a bonus, Maze brings the hard truth, Maze gets pointed, Maze is unhelpful in all the best ways, Michael is not, Mom is nice for once, Piano, Pudding, Raziel is good with weather, Sparkly wings, Surprise Party, Therapy in the bathroom, Tiny Battlestar Galactica reference, Trixie is sneaky and cute, Trixie wins at hide and seek, dance party
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-24
Updated: 2017-11-09
Packaged: 2019-01-04 15:53:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 33,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12172035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PixelByPixel/pseuds/PixelByPixel
Summary: Series complete!Azrael finally makes the pudding after a motivational conversation and a dance party, and receives help from an unexpected source when the delivery goes awry.





	1. Pudding

**Author's Note:**

> The song is Wings by Little Mix. 
> 
> And now abide faith, hope, love, these three; but the greatest of these is love. - 1 Corinthians 13:13 ("the one they read at weddings") 
> 
> For those who didn't Google the Dickinson chapters (and I don't blame you), hope is the thing with feathers and faith is a fine invention.
> 
> I wanted to name the chapter titles after verses from 1 Corinthians 13. Sadly, there is no verse about pudding.

Azrael, tucked away in one of Beelzebean’s back tables with a book and a macchiato, looked up as a familiar presence settled into the seat opposite hers. “Hi, Josh,” she greeted, tucking in a bookmark and setting the book aside.

“Reincarnation Blues?” Josh queried with a nod to the book, sliding one of the two cups he carried to rest next to her near-empty one.

“I’m in it,” Azrael replied, with a shrug. “It’s an ARC; one of the librarians let me borrow it. I go by Suzie in the book, which I absolutely would not, but at least I’m female. I’m not really in it much so far; it’s more about the guy who reincarnates.”

Looking a little amused Josh queried, “Don’t the librarians notice all the Death-books you’re reading?”

Azrael nodded. “They find them for me, even. Librarians aren’t supposed to judge your reading choices. Though I’m pretty sure they call me weird when I’m not around. I suppose, by their standards, I am.”

“True,” Josh agreed, laughing as Azrael made a wry face. “Hey, you said it. Was I not supposed to agree with you?”

Shaking her head, Azrael murmured, amused, “Son of God, and you can’t figure that out? No wonder you’re so unlucky in love.”

“Hey, now,” Josh protested, laughing. “It’s not that I’m unlucky. There has always been interest. I just never…” He let his voice trail off, and Azrael nodded.

“Yeah, we’re not having that conversation,” she said firmly. “I should not have gone there, sorry. Baby brother, disturbing mental images… just no.”

His expression growing serious, Josh leaned back in the chair, saying, “Can you guess why I’m here?”

Azrael pretended to ponder the question, tapping at her cheek with one index finger. “You simply could not stand to be without the pleasure of my company for a minute longer,” she decided, with a quick smile. “Or, ooh, you wanted to get me another macchiato.” She took the cup he’d put before her, with a murmur of thanks, and tasted its contents. “Hey, I was right! Wow, at least somebody is answering my prayers.”

“Careful.” Despite the warning, Josh looked amused. He said more seriously, “C’mon, Rae. It’s been a week since Michael spoke with you.”

“An instant,” Azrael replied, “Compared to the duration of human existence. Actually, can we go back to discussing your love life or lack thereof? I think that would be more pleasant.”

Josh smiled. “It would be boring, Rae. There’s nothing to tell.”

Azrael sat up, scanning the coffeeshop. “We could make it more interesting…”

Josh, recognizing the danger in his sister’s intent expression if not the specifics of what she had in mind, warned, “Rae.”

“There she is.” Azrael waved, calling brightly, “Alex, hi. Come meet my brother!”

“Rae,” Josh protested, but Alex was already there, smiling.

“Hi, Rae’s brother,” Alex said cheerfully. “I hope you know you’ve got the sweetest little sister ever.”

Azrael smiled, it must be said, angelically. A shaft of sunlight broke through the clouds and shone through the window, turning her hair into a halo, and Josh murmured something about Raziel and weather and overkill. Though, really, it was a little unsettling if their conversation was being followed that closely.

“Josh,” Josh supplied. He refrained from commenting on Azrael’s sweetness, instead giving his sister a look that mingled amusement and exasperation.

Alex leaned lightly against the table. “Hi, Josh. I’m Alex. It’s nice to meet you. Are you the brother Rae was staying with?”

Josh shook his head, supplying, “That’s Lucifer.”

Alex smiled, dimples appearing in her cheeks. “So it’s Azrael,” she said, “And Lucifer and Josh? That’s some weird naming, I have to say.”

“Lucifer and I are full siblings, but Josh is a half,” Azrael offered. “Same father, vastly different mothers.” She paused, then added, “Vastly different life experiences, too, for that matter.”

Josh added, though not without a nod acknowledging his sister’s words, “And Josh is actually a nickname, though you’re welcome to call me that. Rae does.”

“What do you do, Josh?” Alex queried.

Azrael answered for him, all girlish enthusiasm, though Josh caught the glint in her eyes. “He’s a surfer. He’s so good! It’s like he can walk on water. Ouch!” She made a face at Josh, then turned back to Alex. “He just kicked me under the table! I guess he doesn’t like me bragging on him.”

“You shouldn’t kick your sister,” Alex chided, though she looked like she was trying not to laugh. “I do a little surfing, myself.” She looked toward the front of the store as a co-worker called for her, then said, “Maybe I’ll see you out there.”

Josh said amiably, “She’s nice.”

“Yes,” Azrael agreed, drawing out the word a little as she watched the barista leave.

Josh followed the direction of his sister’s gaze and shook his head, amused. “Really?”

Azrael shrugged. “Why not? Doesn’t hurt to look. Dad could take it as a compliment.”

Josh laughed outright at that, and the couple at the next table smiled to hear him. “You shouldn’t have said that about me walking on water,” he added, though his tone held no reproof.

With another shrug, Azrael replied, “You saw her - she didn’t believe me. They never do. I can say weird things and I get away with it because I’m cute.” She offered an overly sweet smile, then chuckled before adding, “Lucifer can get away with even more, with the accent and all. Wonder if that was intentional.”

“Still, I’m not sure what you were trying to accomplish, calling her over,” Josh observed.

Azrael looked as if she wasn’t entirely sure. “It seemed like fun,” she said finally. “I mean, it was fun, right? Besides the part where you kicked me.”

“It was a tap,” Josh protested.

“Pretty violent for the Prince of Peace,” Azrael teased. “Next you’re going to tell me you’re a _bad_ shepherd.”

Josh shook his head, looking entertained. “Okay, give me a break. Let’s get back to the pudding.”

Azrael took another drink of her macchiato, then sighed. “It’s a ridiculous task, Josh.”

“Think about what you’re saying.” Josh leaned forward, his words quiet but his dark eyes intent on his sister. “Are you really questioning his will?”

“Josh, where have you been?” Azrael replied, exasperated. “I’ve been questioning his will this whole time. Come on, don’t tell me you didn’t have doubts, back in the day. I was there in Gethsemane. I heard you. You asked him to spare you.” She added, more quietly, “So did I, not that it mattered.”

A flicker of something crossed Josh’s expression, but his voice was patient as he replied, “I asked him to spare me if it was his will. His will, not mine, and consider what I was facing.” Azrael dropped her gaze, and he added, “Questioning is one thing, but he gave you an order, and you haven’t followed it. It’s pudding. That’s it. I don’t understand why you’re being so stubborn.”

“I just don’t see why he wants me to do this,” Azrael replied. “I mean, pudding, Josh. And making it myself? Is there something wrong with the cups? I know Dan likes them.”

“Too much high fructose corn syrup in those cups,” Josh quipped. “Homemade is best.”

Azrael fought to keep her expression blank, but the smile escaped her. “This is why he sent you instead of Michael,” she accused. “He knew Michael would just go all more-dutiful-than-thou and annoy me. Not that you don’t have an element of that, yourself, little brother,” she added. “But at least you’re entertaining about it.”

“Also, Michael has been really distracted lately,” Josh added, looking puzzled. “He keeps playing with this little plastic sword. No clue what’s up with that, and when I asked him about it, he wouldn’t answer.”

“Huh,” Azrael replied, sounding puzzled. “That’s really weird. I mean, he’s always been into weaponry, but not plastic.”

Josh shrugged, dismissing the topic, then asked gently, “What’s this really about, Rae? Why won’t you just do as Dad asked?”

Azrael shook her head, her lips tightening a little. “I want to please him,” she said, her voice just barely audible over the clamor of the coffee shop. “As long as it doesn’t hurt anybody.”

His manner pragmatic, Josh replied, “Pudding is hardly likely to bring harm to anyone, unless you spike it with something - which is definitely not part of Dad’s plan, so please don’t.”

A flicker of impatience crossed Azrael’s face. “I wouldn’t poison Dan. I wouldn’t cause harm to any of them.”

“You’ve grown close to them,” Josh ventured, with a smile. “It’s different, living among them.”

Azrael nodded, though she didn’t return the smile. “It’s like back in the beginning,” she said slowly. “When there weren’t so many of them. I knew all of them, back then.” She took a gulp of her macchiato, then exhaled a soft sigh.

Josh watched her for a long moment. “You haven’t really paid much attention to them as individuals in a while, have you? Not since -”

“No,” Azrael interrupted, her voice thick with asperity. “I haven’t. Until now. Fine. I’ll do it, Josh. I’ll make the stupid pudding. I’ll take it to Dan. Today.”

Josh’s brows lifted in surprise at his sister’s manner. “Rae, I didn’t mean to -”

“I know,” Azrael replied, with a tight smile. “I’m not angry with you, little brother. But now I need to get to the grocery store.” Azrael swept out of Beelzebean, taking her book but leaving the half-full drink.

Josh looked after his sister with a sigh, then tipped his gaze upward. “Hope you’re happy.”

* * *

 Azrael stalked into the apartment she shared with Ella, closing the door behind her with a little more force than was precisely necessary. She had just received a text from Ella: Labwork to do, probably home late. Of course. How convenient. For all that she knew her father didn’t manipulate the humans, Azrael still found that suspect. No Ella, no distraction.

She put the grocery bags on the kitchen table with a _thump_ and started to prepare her mise-en-place. “Cornstarch,” she muttered, banging the box onto the counter. “Salt.” _Thunk._ “Milk.” _Thud._ “Eggs.” All set to slam the carton of eggs onto the counter, she stopped just in the nick of time, preventing both a mess and another run to the grocery store.

“Okay, take a breath,” Azrael instructed herself firmly. She knew that if she didn’t focus, she’d likely end up ruining the pudding and have to start over. She reached for her phone and turned on a pick-me-up playlist.

“All right,” she said briskly, turning back to her ingredients. “Let’s do this.”

By the time the pudding was nearly done, she was singing along with the bubblegum pop on her playlist and dancing as best she could while also stirring the pudding.

’Cause wings are made to fly  
And we don’t let nobody bring us down  
No matter what you say it won’t hurt me  
Don’t matter if I fall from the sky  
These wings are made to fly

She was so involved on her singing and dancing (and, to a lesser degree, stirring) that she didn’t notice Ella’s arrival. Ella after a moment of watching, joined the dance party, happily dropping her work bag and bouncing over to grab Azrael’s free hand, spinning the girl in place as the song came to an end.

Laughing, the tech said, “That was great.”

“Sometimes I wonder if Dad controls Spotify,” Azrael quipped. “But even I am not that paranoid.”

Ella nodded, agreeing, “That seems kinda unlikely, yeah.”

Turning off the heat under the pudding and moving it to an unheated burner, Azrael agreed deadpan, “Yeah, Dad can’t even figure out his DVR.” She let the silence hold a moment as Ella stared at her before winking and adding, “Thought you were working late.”

With a sound somewhere between relief and amusement, Ella nodded. “Things came together faster than I thought they would.” Surveying the kitchen, she asked, “But you’re making more desserts, really?”

“Try it,” Azrael suggested, taking up the spoon that she had discarded during the dancing and offering Ella a bite of the pudding. “And don’t worry, it’s a gift for someone else.”

Ella tasted the pudding and then sighed happily. “Wow, that is amazing. Who’s it for?”

Azrael pulled the pudding off the heat and dropped the spoon into the sink. “Dan.”

“Aww, because Maze keeps messing with his pudding? That’s so sweet.”

“How do you know it’s Maze?” Azrael queried, taking the pudding and straining it through a sieve. “I mean, besides the obvious: demon.”

Ella grinned. “Saw her eating it in the break room. But, really, that’s not so bad as far as evil deeds go.”

Azrael nodded her agreement. “Yeah. She could do way worse.” She hesitated, then said, “Dad told me to do this. I mean, not directly, but he made his intentions known.”

“What, a burning bush in the shape of pudding?” Ella queried. “How would that even work?”

“The burning bush was Luci,” Azrael said absently, with a quick grin for Ella’s question. “No, he sent, um, emissaries.” She pulled out the small basket and the ramekins she’d purchased, and began to portion out the pudding."

Ella regarded the angel thoughtfully, noting her vague answer. “One of them was your brother Michael.” Azrael nodded, and Ella said, “It’s not like you shouldn’t say his name or anything. It’s just…”

Azrael paused her work, the spoon resting in the pan. “I’m sorry about all that.”

“You don’t have to keep apologizing for how he was,” Ella reassured. Seeing Azrael’s look of uncertainty, Ella said, “If you stop saying you’re sorry for your brother, I promise to stop talking about that super-cute picture of you and the sheep.” Azrael made a sound somewhere between a laugh and a groan, and Ella added, “I’ll even take down the copy someone posted on the bulletin board at the precinct.”

Azrael stared at the tech in shock. “You’re kidding.”

“Yes,” Ella agreed, laughing. “I’m kidding. Sorry, but the look on your face…”

“Okay, you’re totally going to Hell for that,” Azrael teased, her expression relieved, but Ella just laughed. Shaking her head, Azrael continued, “Because I wouldn’t put it past Mazikeen to do something like that.” She started dishing out the last of the pudding.

“Maze,” Ella opined, “Would wallpaper the break room with the picture.”

Azrael put the pan in the sink and eyed the tech. “No, she would… convince somebody else to do it, but please don’t give her any ideas.”

Ella sauntered over to the sink and grabbed both the pan and a clean spoon. “She comes up with enough of them on her own,” Ella agreed, scooping up some of the leftover pudding.

“I can make you some more of that later,” Azrael offered with a smile.

“Nah, I just want a little,” Ella replied agreeably. “Thanks, though.”

Azrael fitted the tops on the ramekins and loaded up her basket. Considering the butterscotch stains on her shirt, she said, “I’m going to get changed and run these over. Want me to pick up food on the way back?”

“That’d be awesome,” Ella replied, with a smile. “Anything’s good; surprise me.”

Azrael nodded and, after grabbing fresh clothes, ducked into the bathroom. She returned, wearing her red dress, and scooped up her basket.

“Um, Rae?” The girl turned, and Ella shook her head, hiding a smile at the image Azrael made: girl in red dress with basket. “Never mind. Have fun. Don’t get lost in the woods.”

Azrael, puzzled, set off to make her delivery.

* * *

Azrael knocked briskly on the door to Dan’s apartment. Trixie, she knew, was with Chloe, and so wouldn’t be present for whatever was going to happen.

As she waited, it suddenly occurred to Azrael that Dan might be taking so long because he wasn’t alone. “If Mom is in there with him, so help me,” she whispered, just as the door rattled open.

Dan, his hair damp, looked understandably confused to see a girl with a basket on his doorstep, even if the girl was his daughter’s friend. “Am I supposed to be the Big Bad Wolf?” he asked, with a smile. Azrael, after a moment of confusion, realized just how she looked, and suddenly Ella’s final comment made sense. At least the red dress didn’t have a hood.

“Sorry. Inadvertent fairy-tale reference.” Azrael smiled. “I brought you a present.” She attempted to peer past Dan, asking, “Is anybody else in there?”

“No,” Dan replied, his tone bemused. “It’s just me. Come on in, but you didn’t need to bring me anything.”

“Kinda did,” Azrael replied under her breath, following Dan into the apartment. It was definitely a bachelor pad, with minimal furniture. Trixie had left a few touches, though: books on a table, a denim jacket hanging on a hook, and pictures on the refrigerator. Several featured Trixie and a be-winged Azrael, flying.

In one of them, Azrael’s wings were _pink_.

Seeing her studying the pictures, Dan said, “That Christmas play really made an impression, I guess. She’s been drawing pictures like that ever since.”

“Yeah,” Azrael replied vaguely, putting the basket on the small table. “It was, um, an experience.” She slid the basket a little closer to Dan.

He opened it, still caught between amusement and confusion. “You really didn’t have to - what is this?” He started pulling the ramekins out of the basket, giving Azrael a curious look.

“Pudding,” Azrael explained. “It should still be warm.”

Dan stared at her, perplexed. “Why would you bring me pudding?”

“God told me to,” Azrael replied, not really caring if he believed her. “Via the Archangel Michael and Jesus.”

“Very funny,” Dan replied, shaking his head. “That’s right, you were there when I talked to your brother about it.” Azrael nodded, and Dan continued, “That’s nice of you, but you really didn’t have to. What kind is it?”

Azrael smiled. Of course he didn’t believe her. “Butterscotch. Seriously, try it while it’s still warm. That’s when it’s the best.”

The last of the ramekins made a soft clattering noise as it slipped from Dan’s suddenly loosened grip. “Butterscotch?” As Azrael nodded, he began, very carefully, to pry the lid off the small dish. He lifted the container to his nose and inhaled carefully, then rummaged in a drawer for a spoon. He took a hearty spoonful and tasted it, his eyes closing blissfully.

Azrael, a little uncomfortable with the depth of the man’s apparent affection for his pudding, edged closer to the door. “What did I just do?” she whispered, with a quick, uncertain glance upward.

Dan opened his eyes. “How did you know?” he asked, with more intensity than Azrael really felt pudding warranted, even homemade. It wasn’t like she’d made a croquembouche, after all.

“How did I know… what?” Azrael queried. Looking closer, she was shocked to see that Dan’s eyes were glistening.

Dan gestured for Azrael to come closer, and she did, perching on one of the chairs. Dan sank into the other chair. “How did you know to bring me this pudding?” He took another spoonful, obviously savoring it, then said abruptly, “I… Sorry, this is rude. Would you like some?”

Azrael shook her head. “No, thanks. I tasted as I made it, and I’ve got kind of a sugar buzz. But if there’s coffee, that’d be great.” She carefully ignored the first question. She had, after all, already told him.

“You made this?” Dan repeated, looking perhaps a little relieved that he didn’t have to share. “Where did you get the recipe?” Discombobulated by the pudding, he didn’t even question the appropriateness of coffee, instead pouring it into a mug emblazoned with _#1 Dad_ and putting it on the table before her.

Azrael smiled, murmuring her thanks for the coffee and taking a drink. “It’s pudding. I mean, it’s not too complicated.”

“You don’t understand,” Dan said. He took another spoonful of pudding and studied it for a moment before eating it. He finished the bite and a soft sigh escaped him.

“You’re right about that,” Azrael agreed, eyeing him with amused puzzlement.

Dan sighed again in contentment. “I haven’t had this since I was a kid. My dad used to make it for me. I’d come home from school and it would be waiting for me.” He actually put down the food to explain to Azrael, his eyes warm with nostalgia, “He’d make it before he had to go off to work, and it was still warm like this when I got home. He seemed to know when I’d had a bad day, and it’d be waiting for me.”

Flicking a glance at her mug, then the ceiling, Azrael murmured, “A little heavy-handed, isn’t it?”

“What?” asked Dan, frowning in confusion.

“What?” echoed Azrael, all innocent puzzlement.

Dan shook his head, then said, “He died when I was about your age. I haven’t tasted pudding like this since the week before it happened. It’s… this is amazing; it’s exactly like I remember.”

Azrael blinked, then shot another look skyward. Dan, seeing the direction of her gaze, looked up as well, then eyed the girl in confusion. “Are you okay?”

Azrael nodded. “I’m fine,” she replied. “Sorry about your dad. That’s rough. Do you have a picture of him?”

Dan gave his pudding a brief, longing look, but did get up and disappeared down the hallway. He returned after a moment with a framed photograph of a much younger Dan, his hairstyle involving an overabundance of gel and truly unfortunate frosted tips, and a man who must be his father.

“Heart attack,” Azrael murmured, studying the picture.

“What?” Dan stared at the girl, his eyes narrowing. “How did you know that’s how he died?”

Azrael took a long drink of coffee and seriously considered spilling it on herself as a distraction. “Maybe Chloe mentioned it,” she said finally.

Dan didn’t look convinced. “How did you end up talking about my father with Chloe?”

“Well.” Azrael put down the coffee cup, wishing that Dan’s phone would ring to summon him to a homicide, that a fire alarm would sound, that the ceiling would collapse - well, maybe not that. “Fathers came up a while back. Chloe and I were talking about her dad; Trixie had gotten out a picture of them.” She turned her gaze to the picture. “Trixie has that exact smile.”

Dan looked at the picture as well, smiling. “Yeah,” he agreed softly. “She really does.”

Azrael nudged the ramekin closer to Dan and he took up the spoon again. He took another bite of the pudding before considering the girl, the suspicion returning to his expression. “I don’t think -” he began, but he cut off his words as a knock sounded.

Azrael breathed a quiet prayer of thanksgiving as Dan got up to answer the door.

“Oh. Hi.” Dan’s voice sounded oddly strangled. “I’m a little, um.”

“What, too busy for me, Daniel?” a familiar voice purred. “I doubt that.”

Azrael looked sharply to the door, just in time to see her mother breeze past the detective.

“What could you possibly be… oh, hello, sweetheart. What are you doing here?” Charlotte seemed entirely unconcerned by her daughter’s presence.

Dan, on the other hand, turned the most intriguing shade of red. “Your mom’s here about… about a case,” he said, clearly flustered.

“Oh, we all know that’s not true,” Charlotte said, with a low, rich chuckle.

Azrael couldn’t quite see where Charlotte’s hand was, but whatever she did made Dan jump away from her with a nervous laugh.

“Mom,” Azrael reproved, hiding a smile. “I’m right here.”

“Well, you might learn something, sweetheart,” Charlotte replied, winking as Dan gaped at her. “But, really, why are you here?”

Dan, prudently putting the table between himself and the Goddess of All Creation, said, “God told her to bring me pudding.”

Charlotte turned a sharp eye on her daughter. “Did he, now?”

Azrael shifted uncomfortably in her chair and took a diversionary sip of coffee. The collapsed ceiling was starting to sound good. “Michael said -” she began.

“Your brother was here?” Charlotte asked, her expression hopeful.

Azrael nodded as Dan watched the conversation in confusion. “Not _here_ here, but he’s been around a few times.”

“Oh.” Charlotte’s expression went a little hurt. “And he knows that I’m here?”

Azrael sighed. “Mom, you know he’s chosen his side.”

There was an uncomfortable silence, then Dan cleared his throat, his gaze turning to Azrael. “I still would like to know how you knew about my dad.”

“Well,” Azrael said, getting to her feet. “Mom will tell you.” She smiled, certain her mother would do no such thing. “Enjoy the pudding, Dan. And if you guys use it for, um, other purposes, please don’t tell me… and be sure it cools enough, first.”

As Dan stared at her, Azrael made a speedy retreat, closing the door firmly behind her. Her mother, she hoped, would provide ample distraction, even if she didn’t want to think too hard about what form it would take.

She wasn’t surprised when Michael fell into step with her outside the apartment building.

“Not yet,” Michael said in answer to her unspoken question, looking a little frustrated. “Mom wasn’t supposed to -” He sighed and didn’t finish.

Azrael eyed him. “What, she interrupted?” Michael didn’t answer, and Azrael suggested, all innocence, “Maybe you should go tell her.”

That earned her a withering look from Michael. “I’m not stupid, little sister. I know what they’re up to in there, and I’m certainly not going to interrupt.”

A brief flicker of amused disappointment crossed Azrael’s face before she regarded her brother in horrified fascination. “Do you know the specifics? No, don’t tell me. I don’t want to know. Let’s move on to you telling me why you’re here, so I can go eat something that’s not sugar.”

“Just wanted to express my gratitude that you finally did as you’re told,” Michael replied, though he sounded peevish, rather than grateful. “It would have been nice if it hadn’t taken Yeshua coming down to motivate you.” Nettled, Michael added, “I’m not more-dutiful-than-thou, and I’m not annoying.”

Azrael sighed. “You heard that? Sorry.” She didn’t sound particularly contrite.

“I do pay attention,” Michael replied, making a face at her tone.

Azrael nodded. “Because you want Dad’s plan to succeed, whatever it is.”

“Little sister,” Michael said, not without a certain amount of condescension, “Does it ever occur to you that our father actually knows what he’s doing? That he may have sent you down here to accomplish something good?”

Azrael walked in silence for a moment. “It’s just that, where his kids are concerned, his track record isn’t so hot. Besides, you don’t know what he’s intending, right?”

“Well, no,” Michael admitted. He stopped walking and Azrael, after a moment, turned to face him. His expression serious, Michael said, “Look, when something happens later, do what feels right. Don’t worry about repercussions.” Seeing Azrael’s wary expression, he added, “That’s from our father.”

“Well, that’s not reassuring at all,” Azrael said, a little sourly. Seeing that Michael looked unlikely to elaborate, she instead asked, “So what’s the deal with the little plastic sword?”

Michael didn’t reply, but one hand slipped into his pocket.

“Wait, your sword is small enough to keep in your pocket?” Azrael caught her own words, then bit back a laugh. “Be glad Luci wasn’t around to hear that. I’m not going to continue that line of thought, though. I’ve had too many sexually charged conversations with family members today to go there.”

Michael gaped at his sister. “Living here has changed you,” he said firmly.

Azrael smiled. “You know, brother, I think you’re right about that.”

Michael said severely, “That wasn’t a compliment.”

Azrael didn’t look concerned. “There’s a time when I would have been upset by that, or worried. But today I’m just buzzed enough - on the pudding our father wanted me to make, so don’t look at me like that - that I don’t care. So why did Dad want me to make the pudding? So that I’d see Dan missing his father and get all nostalgic for mine? That sure didn’t work.”

“No,” Michael said crisply. “That wasn’t the point of all that, though it wouldn’t exactly be a bad thing if you could summon a little filial piety for once.”

“For once?” Azrael echoed, a note of amusement in her voice. “When have I been disrespectful to our father? And in case you’ve forgotten, we do have two parents. You’re the one who flew off the handle at me for daring to suggest that you’re like Mom.”

“That’s different,” Michael replied stiffly.

“Really? How?” When Michael didn’t answer, Azrael said, “That’s what I thought. Look, not that I would wish you on her, but Mom would actually like to see you. I mean, probably not right at this precise moment, but she did seem to miss you, Dad knows why…”

Michael still didn’t answer, though his gaze flicked toward the apartment building and he did look briefly contrite.

“So,” Azrael said. “The little sword?”

“Ella gave it to me,” Michael replied, pulling the small piece of plastic from his pocket and showing it to his sister. It was slightly bet from having been carried in a pocket.

“Oh.” Azrael considered the sword, then offered, “It’s nice. Very, um, pointy. And you’re still carrying it around with you?”

“Obviously.” Michael tucked away the sword, then asked, too casually, “How is she?”

Azrael shook her head. “You messed up when you spoke the way you did about Mazikeen - yes, I heard what happened,” she added, noting Michael’s startled look.

“But she’s a demon,” Michael protested.

With a sigh, Azrael explained patiently, “She’s Ella’s friend. And you’re an archangel, but you still manage to drive me up the wall on the regular, so maybe knock off the stereotypes. It’s not like we’re all cast from the same mold, angels _or_ demons. You can’t paint us all with the same brush.” As Michael drew a breath to argue, she cut off his words. “Look, brother, I’m hungry and this conversation isn’t going to go well, especially with all these metaphors. If you want to try again when I’ve had a burger or something to counteract all this sugar, I’ll think about it. Besides,” she added, with a grin, “It’s my turn to make a dramatic exit.” And she darted behind a nearby building and took to the air, leaving Michael staring after her.

* * *

Much later, Dan, despite his vow to ration them, finished off his second pudding. He considered the hour and deemed it not too late, then sent off a text to Chloe. _Can I come by? We need to talk about Lucifer’s sister._


	2. Veritas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dan and Chloe discuss Azrael's unusual knowledge.

Dan looked a little uncomfortable as he stepped through Chloe’s door. “Hey, thanks for doing this,” he said. Chloe nodded, with a smile that she tried not to force, and Dan asked, “Where’s Trixie?”

“Doing her homework,” Chloe supplied, not bothering to add that she had suggested homework time. She led Dan to the couch, pulling on an encouraging smile and trying to put him at ease. “What’s up?”

Dan sat, though he still held himself a little stiffly. “How much do you know about Lucifer’s little sister?”

Chloe sank back against the couch. “Not a lot,” she admitted. “Why?”

Dan leaned forward, his expression intent. “Did you ever talk to her about my father?”

Chloe shook her head, puzzled. “No, he’s never come up. Is everything okay?”

Dan looked troubled as he said, “She showed up at my place today, with pudding.”

“Well,” Chloe replied, with a quick smile. “You don’t look happy about that. Wasn’t it any good? Rae made cinnamon rolls for us last week and they were amazing, but maybe she’s better with baked goods and not so great with pudding.”

“It’s not funny,” Dan flared.

Chloe shot a look toward Trixie’s room. Intentionally keeping her voice quiet and level, she said, “I never said it was. Look, Dan, what’s the problem?”

“She knew how my Dad died,” Dan said, his jaw working as he formulated his words. “And she said God told her to bring me pudding, and it was the same pudding that he - my dad, not Rae’s - used to make for me.”

“Well, she’s pretty religious,” Chloe began, firmly steering her mind away from what kind of pudding Azrael’s father would make.

“You don’t honestly think that _God_ told her to bring me pudding, Chloe.” It was not a question.

Chloe chose her words carefully. She didn’t want to lie to her ex, but telling the whole truth was definitely not going to happen. “Maybe Rae thinks he did.”

With a snort, Dan said, “That doesn’t really make me feel better. Why would she think that? I mean, why would anybody think that God - assuming that he exists, which I’m not so sure about these days - would ask some random kid to bring me pudding?”

“I doubt he asked some random kid to bring you pudding,” Chloe agreed lightly. She got to her feet and poured two glasses of wine.

Dan accepted his drink without comment and took a healthy gulp before adding, “I mean, at least with Joan of Arc there was a battle, something big. But pudding?”

“Yeah, and look what that got Joan,” Chloe muttered, suddenly questioning that history paper she’d written in high school. Raising her voice, she added, “Rae isn’t Joan of Arc, Dan. I think you’re getting worked up over nothing. Pudding isn’t that big a deal.”

Dan shook his head, setting aside the wine. “But how did she know how my dad died? That’s just creepy, Chlo. And sometimes… do you ever notice that sometimes she just doesn’t act like a regular kid? She’ll make these little side comments, and sometimes the expression on her face… she’s really strange, Chloe.”

Chloe, having a feeling she would need it, kept her own drink close. “From what Lucifer has said, she’s had kind of a strange upbringing, and her parents’ split was rough on her. It’s no wonder she seems a little odd sometimes.”

“I just don’t think Trixie should hang out with this kid any more,” Dan said firmly.

“No!” Trixie wailed, popping up from behind the breakfast bar before Chloe even had time to react. “Daddy, she’s my friend!”

Chloe peered at Trixie in surprise. “How’d you get back there, baby?”

“Maze showed me how to sneak, and to be really quiet. I’m the best in my whole school at hide-and-seek now.” Despite her upset, Trixie managed a smile. “Even the teachers couldn’t find me, last time.” She darted over to sit next to Dan. “Please don’t say I can’t be around Rae,” she begged, her smile disappearing. “She’ll explain everything.”

“Trixie,” Chloe cautioned.

“She _will_ ,” Trixie insisted.

Dan put an arm around his daughter. “Monkey, sometimes Mommy and Daddy know better. We’ve been doing this a little longer than you.”

Trixie shook her head. “Not longer than Rae, though.” She took a deep breath, ignoring her father’s look of amused puzzlement, and then repeated, “She’ll explain everything when she gets here. I told her to come over.”

Chloe peered at her daughter. She would have heard a phone call, as close as Trixie had been. “You… called her?” She wasn’t entirely sure how the whole prayer thing worked, or if Azrael could even hear them in her current form.

The look Chloe received gave a hint of the teenager Trixie would become. “I texted her. On my _phone_ , Mom.”

“How else would Trixie call her, Chlo?” Dan asked, looking confused.

“Babe, that… might not have been a good idea,” Chloe said gently to Trixie, ignoring Dan’s question for now.

“Rae will help, Mommy,” Trixie assured her, with obvious faith in her friend.

The doorbell sounded a constant peal, as if someone was leaning on it; Chloe hurried to admit a rather breathless Azrael. “Trixie said there’s an emergency?”

Trixie pelted across the room and grabbed Azrael’s hand, her expression not quite defiant, but close.

“Take it easy,” Azrael murmured, not wanting to incite a pint-sized rebellion. “What’s wrong?”

“Daddy doesn’t want us to be friends,” Trixie informed Azrael.

Azrael kept a straight face with some effort. “Okay,” she said. “Well, I’d say that counts as an emergency, then.” She gave Trixie’s hand a quick squeeze. “It’ll be okay,” she reassured, her thoughtful gaze turning to Dan.

“How did you get here so quickly?” Dan demanded. He turned to Chloe, “How did she - Trixie, when did you text her?”

“Just a couple minutes ago,” Trixie replied, clinging to Azrael’s hand.

Azrael led Trixie over to a chair and sat, her gaze lingering briefly on Dan’s wine as Trixie squeezed into the seat with her. “I take it your guest didn’t illuminate things for you this afternoon?” she asked, though her expression was serious rather than the usual teasing tone she took when discussing her mother around Dan.

Dan coughed and took a quick drink, giving Azrael a rather intent look, as if urging her to keep quiet. “No.”

Azrael nodded. “That’s what I figured.” She turned to Chloe. “Dad’s trying to force my hand,” she said tightly. “I mean, not that I’m entirely blameless; I should have kept my mouth shut about his dad.”

Chloe, distracted from Dan’s embarrassed look by Azrael’s words, asked faintly, “Your father wants you to tell Dan? I thought that wasn’t allowed.”

Azrael put her free hand on Trixie’s arm in an attempt to still the child’s excited bouncing. “It’s not, or at least I thought it wasn’t. But Dad might have an ulterior motive.”

“What are you talking about?” Dan demanded, starting to look frustrated. “What does Rae’s father have to do with this? Whatever it is, you should tell me. If it has to do with my daughter, I have a right to know.”

Azrael studied Dan, her manner cool and assessing. “You really don’t know what you’re asking me to do.”

Dan turned to Chloe, saying irritably, “This is just the sort of thing I’m talking about, Chloe.” He eyed Trixie, who was watching with interest, then added carefully, “Ot-nay ormal-nay.”

Trixie, still looking far too excited for the seriousness of the conversation, said brightly, “I know Pig Latin, Daddy. What’s not normal? Rae?” Her eyes sparkling, she added, “You have _no_ idea.”

“Trixie,” Azrael murmured, shaking her head.

Before she could say anything more, Maze burst through the door. Very quietly, Azrael said a word that made Trixie’s eyes go wide.

The demon took in the scene and demanded, “What’s the emergency?” Nobody answered, and Maze stalked over to Azrael. “You texted me that there was an emergency. I was just about to -” Her eyes slid to Trixie then flickered to the girl’s parents before she amended, “- do something.”

“Sorry,” Azrael replied, sounding contrite. “I was afraid I might need backup, and I just got here. No time to send you an update.”

“Daddy doesn’t want Rae and me to be friends,” Trixie added, with a woeful look toward her father.

“Now, look,” Dan started as Maze turned on him, eyebrows lifted in inquiry. “This isn’t any of your business, Maze. And, Rae, I’m sorry, but this is a decision for Chloe and me. Trixie shouldn’t have gotten you over here.”

Maze made an exasperated noise and turned back to Azrael as Chloe and Dan engaged in a heated, low-voiced conversation. “What did you do?”

“Let slip that I knew how his father died,” Azrael admitted with a grimace, casually shifting her position to block Trixie’s view of Chloe and Dan. “I think it got a little too weird for him.”

With an annoyed huff, Maze said, “Let me guess, you want to tell him.”

“I was thinking about it,” Azrael admitted. “But there are complications.”

Trixie offered, “I think she should.”

Maze lifted her eyes skyward. “Do you maybe want to put up a billboard or something, Fun Size?” she demanded, exasperated. “It would be quicker.”

Azrael sighed. “He’d be the last, Mazikeen. I swear it. Look, I saw Michael earlier, and he gave me the impression that Dad wants me to tell Dan.”

“I don’t care what that tool said,” Maze snapped. “And if Daddy wants you to do it, you definitely shouldn’t.”

Azrael inhaled deeply, a calming breath. “While I’m not basing this on what would annoy my parents more, there is also the complicating factor of what Mom would think. She’s made it pretty clear that she would rather Dan didn’t know.”

“So,” Maze drawled. “Daddy wants you to tell, but that would upset Mommy. You’re basically screwed no matter what you do, TD.”

Azrael nodded to Maze, her expression rather frustrated. “Thanks for summing that up, Mazikeen,” she said, a biting note of sarcasm in her voice. “I really hadn’t made the connection.”

Trixie squeezed Azrael’s hand. With a furtive glance toward her parents, who were still deep in conversation, she said, “That sucks, Rae.”

Azrael couldn’t help but smile a little at Trixie’s words. “Thanks. It does.”

“Not bad, as far as torment goes,” Maze observed, with a smirk.

“I don’t think my father is actively trying to torment me, Mazikeen,” Azrael protested, though she still didn’t look happy.

Mazikeen snorted. “What, like sending you here in that body doesn’t qualify?”

Azrael didn’t reply, her lips tightening, and Trixie offered, “I like your body, Rae.”

After a warning look to Maze, who was clearly trying not to laugh, Azrael replied, “Thanks, Trixie.”

The little girl continued, “If you’re going to make your dad or mom mad no matter what, why don’t you just tell my dad who you are? Then he’ll understand everything and we can stay friends.”

Azrael closed her eyes.

Maze asked sweetly, “Feel like torment yet, TD?”

“I just feel like Mom and I really connected, last time we spoke,” Azrael said, though it seemed like she was talking to herself.

“Please, Rae?” Trixie asked hopefully, and Azrael winced.

“Wow,” Maze marveled. “She doesn’t even need knives.”

Azrael took a deep breath. “Okay,” she agreed. “Mom’s going to be upset, though.”

“Well, then, I’ll tell Dan,” Maze offered. “I’m always up for pissing off your mom, and I don’t really care what she thinks. Besides, can’t let you have all the fun.” The demon turned to Dan and Chloe. “Listen up, Dan.”

“Maze,” Chloe warned, her eyes gone wide.

“He can take it, Decker,” Maze said with a smirk. “Dan,” she said brightly, “Lucifer’s really the Devil, I’m a demon, and Fun Size over here used to be the Angel of Death. That’s how she knew about your father. She said the one who took his soul to… wherever he ended up.”

Trixie added cheerfully, “See, Daddy? Everything’s fine.”

Azrael’s facepalm wasn’t audible, but her sigh was. “Mazikeen, you could have eased him into it. And he went to Heaven.”

Maze shrugged. “Oops.”

Dan stared at Maze, shifted his gaze to Azrael, then turned back to Chloe. “What is she talking about?” he demanded.

“Dan,” Chloe said gently. “I know this is a lot to take in -”

“You’re not telling me you believe this, right?” Dan demanded. “Chloe, you don’t even believe in God.”

Chloe, suddenly the focus of the room, temporized, “Well, not necessarily the benevolent, New Testament version, no, but I could definitely make a case for the vengeful one.”

“Plus, he’s a dick,” Maze added, earning herself a warning glare from Chloe, followed by a significant look toward Trixie. “What?” Maze asked. “She knows that word.”

Trixie all but radiated innocence, and Azrael had to pause to admire her technique.

“This is…” Dan, briefly distracted by the peanut gallery, made a frustrated gesture. “This is ridiculous. God, if he exists, is definitely not a -” Dan didn’t finish the sentence, with a quick look toward his daughter, but the intent was clear.

“No, he totally is,” Maze murmured.

Dan rounded on her. “And you’re not a demon, because they’re not real! God, you people need help.”

“Not really the best time to be calling on him,” Azrael observed.

Chloe rested her head in her hands, mumbling, “Why did I think this was a good idea?”

Trixie looked up at Azrael. “You’re going to have to show him.”

“The little human’s right,” Maze agreed.

“You really were the only one who didn’t need proof,” Azrael mused, with a speculative glance for the girl at her side. Trixie shrugged, but looked pleased.

Chloe didn’t say anything. She lifted her head from her hands, her expression concerned.

“Show me what?” Dan demanded. “Chloe, this is insane! You all are delusional.”

Azrael turned to Chloe. “What do you think?”

Chloe stared at the girl. “You’re asking _me_?”

With a small shrug, Azrael replied, “You know him better than I do.”

“It’ll be okay,” Trixie encouraged her mother, though she subsided when Azrael rested a hand on her arm, instead watching and listening alertly.

Chloe shook her head. “You’re not putting this on me.”

Azrael sighed. “There goes my deniability. I could have told everyone, ‘Chloe said I could.’” She let her gaze rest on each of the room’s occupants: Chloe, worried; Dan, upset and disbelieving; Maze, amused and watchful; and finally Trixie, who looked at her with such appeal that Azrael got to her feet and stepped closer to the door, giving herself some space. “Do you honestly think it will help?” she asked Trixie.

The girl nodded solemnly, and Azrael turned an inquiring look to Chloe.

“Maybe,” Chloe allowed. “Eventually. But that doesn’t count as me telling you do do it.”

“Do what?” Dan demanded. “Look, Rae,” he added, gentling his voice and his manner to something appropriate for the child he still believed her to be. “It’s all right. Show me, whatever it is.”

Maze grinned. “There’s your deniability, Fun Size.”

Azrael shook her head dismissively. “He doesn’t know what he’s saying.” The silence held for a moment, then she apparently came to a decision. “You told Dan, so you get to tell Lucifer about this,” she informed Maze.

The demon snorted, but shifted to a spot where she could see both Dan and Azrael.

“Remember,” Azrael told Dan. “You asked me to do this.” She hesitated, then added, “It’ll be okay.” The angel took a deep breath and unfurled her wings.

“Holy shit,” Dan gasped.

“Daddy,” Trixie scolded, though her disapproval didn’t last long. Not when there were wings.

“I always wondered why they say that,” Maze observed, to nobody in particular. “Whose shit? What makes it holy?”

Chloe muttered, “Not the time, Maze.”

Trixie all but skipped over to Azrael, offering brightly, “Aren’t they pretty, Daddy? You can touch them if you want.”

“I’m the one who gets to decide that,” Azrael commented mildly to Trixie. Eyeing Dan with some concern, she added, “It would be a little weird, all things considered.”

Dan did not look particularly chastened by his daughter’s words. He scrambled to his feet, nearly upsetting his wine in the process. “I’m good,” he breathed, regarding Azrael’s wings in shock. “Don’t need to touch them, no.”

“Not a delusion,” Maze offered, too cheerfully. “And if we’re insane, you just went there with us.”

“Maze, please,” Chloe murmured.

Dan realized that his mouth was hanging open and closed it, still staring at Azrael. “You have wings,” he managed finally.

“Yes,” Azrael agreed pleasantly. She whisked away her wings, asking, “Is that better? I know they can be distracting.”

Dan didn’t answer, instead staring at the angel.

“Sorry, little human,” Maze said to Trixie, though she didn’t sound particularly sorry. “Looks like we broke your father.”

“No, you didn’t,” Trixie replied firmly. She moved to Dan’s side, grasping his hand. “He’s okay - right, Daddy?”

“Yeah,” Dan agreed automatically. “I’m good.” He swallowed convulsively, then, after a glance down at his daughter, visibly tried to get it together.

“Dan, _are_ you okay?” Chloe asked, honestly concerned for her ex-husband. “We could get Linda over here. She really helped me when I found out.”

Dan shook his head to Chloe, not really wanting any more witnesses. He turned a rather wild-eyed look on Maze. “So you’re actually…”

“A demon,” Maze agreed, a flicker of wariness on her face.

“Isn’t it cool?” Trixie asked brightly, swinging Dan’s hand.

Dan took a deep breath, postponing the freakout that he desperately wanted to have until his enthusiastic daughter wasn’t present. “Really cool,” he agreed weakly. “Monkey, don’t you have homework?”

“I’m all done,” Trixie replied, with a cheerful smile. “It’s not like I had a lot.”

Biting back a smile, Chloe said, “We’ve got grown-up things to talk about, so why don’t you go get ready for bed? I’ll come tuck you in later, yeah? And no sneaking back down here, no matter what Maze taught you.”

Maze grinned. “A girl’s got to have skills.”

Trixie sighed, but leaned in to hug her father; he patted her back, mumbling his goodnight. Trixie claimed hugs from the others as well, though her quiet words to Azrael caused the angel to reply, amused, “No, I’m a grown-up. I get to stay.”

That earned her a startled look from Dan as Trixie headed to her room. “Well, that makes certain conversations a little less disturbing,” he said carefully.

“Yeah, sorry about that,” Azrael replied, unrepentant.

As Chloe rested a reassuring hand on her ex-husband’s arm, Dan said to Azrael, “You’re really an angel.”

“Do you need to see the wings again?” Azrael asked, her question obviously sincere.

Dan shook his head. “Maybe later. But… are they ever pink?”

“No,” Azrael replied, her lips curving. “Your daughter wanted to dye them with Kool-Aid last week,” she said, missing Maze’s speculative look. “And I think she also mentioned glitter.”

Dan took a deep breath, clearly taking everything in. “And you’re a demon,” he said to Maze.

“Forged in the bowels of Hell,” Maze confirmed.

“And Lucifer is really the Devil,” Dan said slowly. “Holy shit.” Apparently drawing another conclusion, he went just a little green. He turned back to Azrael. “And your mother?”

Maze settled down to a seat. “This should be fun.”

Azrael flicked a quick glance to Chloe, then turned back to Dan. “Charlotte Richards is currently housing my mother, the, ah, Goddess of All Creation.” She hesitated, then added, “She and my father haven’t been together in a very long time. It was kind of a messy breakup.”

Dan sat down hard. “Your father,” he echoed. “Oh, man. I’m totally going to Hell.”

“I don’t know,” Azrael said slowly. “I don’t have my full powers - long story - and I can’t tell. But probably not for _that_.”

“And, hey,” Maze said, clearly enjoying the conversation. “Heaven would be pretty awkward for you, Dan. Don’t you think?”

Chloe protested, giving Maze a perplexed look, “He shot Malcolm, but it was to protect me, even though he should have handled it differently. He wouldn’t go to Hell for that, would he?” She cast a look of appeal to Azrael, who shrugged.

“Oh, that’s not why,” Maze replied archly.

“Mazikeen,” Azrael cautioned softly. “This isn’t the time.”

“I slept with Charlotte Richards,” Dan blurted, disturbed enough by the evening’s events to make the admission. “With…” He shook his head, unable to say out loud that he slept with a Goddess. “That’s why I’m going to Hell.”

The room went quiet. Maze swallowed her tart retort to Azrael in favor of looking between Chloe and Dan, her eyes wide with surprise and mirth. Azrael took a step toward the door, considering flight.

“What?” Chloe breathed, though she had clearly heard her ex.

“We should go,” Azrael said firmly to Maze, as Dan started a fumbling explanation.

Maze shook her head, watching the detectives in fascination. “You can go,” she replied. “I live here.” She paused, then offered, “I’ll make some popcorn, if you want to stay.”

Azrael looked briefly tempted, then shook her head. “I have to go talk to Mom.”

Maze made a short, derisive sound. “I guarantee that staying here would be more fun.”

“You’re probably right,” Azrael agreed with a grimace. “But needs must. Just… make sure Trixie stays upstairs, okay?”

Maze nodded and started for the kitchen, apparently serious about the popcorn.

Azrael headed for the door. “And I’m available if Dan has more questions.” Hearing no response, but for the low-voiced conversation between Chloe and Dan, she made her exit. Standing outside the apartment, she took a deep breath, trying to psych herself up for the talk to come.

“Hey, Fun Size.” Maze stood in the doorway, illuminated from behind. “You want that backup now?”

_Yes,_ Azrael thought. “No,” she said lightly. “Given your history with Mom, that seems like a bad idea.”

Maze looked briefly disappointed, affirming, at least in Azrael’s mind, the rightness of her decision. The demon gave her a knowing look but said only, “Suit yourself.”

The door closed behind her with a certain finality.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was hoping to finish this before the season 3 premiere, but that is obviously not going to happen. The end is in sight, though, and I'm going to try and get another chapter before then. Comments/kudos/virtual baked goods appreciated. :)


	3. In a Mirror, Dimly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Azrael tells her mother of Dan's new knowledge and receives some news of her own.

Azrael stood outside the door to the house where her mother was living and swallowed hard. She hadn’t vomited since that first miserable, alcohol-fueled night in the penthouse and she had no desire to experience that again, but nerves had brought her close to that point. She tried taking deep breaths, with limited success.

The rain had started midway through her flight: not so heavy that she had to land, but enough that she looked bedraggled and felt unpleasantly damp. Maybe her mother would take pity on her.

Since Charlotte hadn’t specifically told her not to tell Dan, she could argue that it wasn’t outright defiance; that was something she’d avoided with her mother since she’d grown old enough for youth not to excuse her behavior, and then, well, her mother had been in Hell. Still, she wasn’t sure Charlotte would see it that way. She didn’t know her mother any more, not really; they’d been apart for too long. She really had no idea what the reaction would be to her news.

Part of her wished that she hadn’t come, even though she knew that Charlotte should absolutely not find out what had happened by chance, or worse, Dad forbid, from Dan himself. How, Azrael wondered, had she reached the point where she wished she was eating popcorn with a demon?

Ducking into a shadowy spot, Azrael loosed her wings to shield her phone from the rain, sparing a moment of grim amusement for their unexpected usefulness, and sent a quick text requesting her mother’s presence.

Azrael tucked away her wings and settled in to wait. The rain had picked up and, feeling her dress clinging unpleasantly to her, Azrael sent a sour look skyward.

It didn’t take long for Charlotte to arrive. With a small smile, she drew Azrael under an awning. “Sweetheart, I know you have the sense to get out of the rain.”

“It’s dark,” Azrael replied, though she didn’t manage a smile in response. “I didn’t see this spot.”

Frowning a little at the state her daughter was in, Charlotte cast a look toward her house. “The children are still up, or I’d ask you inside. Here, you look like you’re freezing.” She pulled off her jacket and tucked it around her daughter’s shoulders. “Better?” she asked, with another smile.

Azrael nestled into the warmth of the jacket, knowing that cold wasn’t the only reason for her tremors. Still, she said, “Yes, thank you.” A oddly familiar scent clung to the jacket: honeysuckle and woodsmoke and something she couldn’t quite define, though it picked at her memory.

“Well,” Charlotte said, smoothing Azrael’s hair the best she could given the damp. “Not that I’m not pleased to see you, but what brought you here?”

Azrael pulled the jacket a little closer. “Dan.” She took a deep breath, unable to continue, and thunder rumbled overhead. Casting a frustrated look toward the sky, she muttered, “I’m trying, okay? I don’t need ominous thunder.”

Her expression growing suspicious, Charlotte looked skyward as well. “Raziel, if that’s you, stop tormenting your sister,” she said, her voice stern.

Azrael wasn’t sure, but it seemed like the rain lightened a little, and there was no more thunder.

“Now.” Charlotte turned her gaze on her daughter. “You were about to tell me something about Daniel.”

Azrael, suddenly feeling her body’s age, nodded. “I’m sorry, Mother. He knows about us. Who we are.” She hesitated, then added, “What we are.”

Charlotte did not speak for a long moment, and Azrael actually wished for more thunder; it would break the silence, at least.

“You told him?” Charlotte asked finally, her voice brittle.

Azrael took a deep breath, considering her response. Technically, the answer to her mother’s question was no, but she didn’t want to give Charlotte further reason for enmity with Maze, especially when the decision to tell Dan had been her own. Strange. There was a time when she wouldn’t have hesitated to throw the demon under the bus, even on a technicality. “It’s because of what happened at Dan’s apartment,” she admitted, avoiding a direct answer. “He got suspicious.”

“He did seem distracted at first,” Charlotte mused, and Azrael grimaced at the mental images her mother’s words inspired. Lifting her gaze once more, Charlotte said, her voice sharp, “You were at Daniel’s apartment because your father wanted you to be there. Correct? Daniel said your father told you to bring him pudding.”

“Mom,” Azrael began faintly, not wanting to implicate one parent to another.

Charlotte turned her eyes from the sky to her daughter. “Answer the question, Azrael,” she said, a note of warning in her voice.

Azrael nodded miserably. The only reason the saw the pained look that crossed her mother’s face was that she was watching for it; an instant later, and Charlotte’s expression had smoothed to blandness.

“I see.” Charlotte said, her voice small and hard, and hinting at the memory of millenia of slights. “And what was Daniel’s reaction?”

“Not positive,” Azrael admitted, remembering Dan’s insistence that he was going to Hell. “I’m sorry, Mom.”

Charlotte shook her head, her jaw tightening. “It was your father’s doing. He can’t even let me have -” Azrael turned away, and Charlotte fell silent.

“Look, give Dan time,” Azrael urged. “These humans, they’re resilient.”

“Don’t I know it,” Charlotte murmured, her smile and her tone of voice sending Azrael’s imagination places she did want it to go.

Had her mother learned Lucifer’s deflection trick, too?

Azrael made a face. “Mom, not everything is about… that.”

“No,” Charlotte agreed, with a faint smile for her daughter’s word-avoidance. “But I’ve found that it can greatly improve quite a few situations. You may want to remember that.”

“Mother,” Azrael protested.

“No, hear me out. You’re not always going to be in that body, and there really is no reason for your father’s antiquated rule.” Charlotte tucked a lock of hair behind Azrael’s ear, urging, “Listen to your mother, sweetheart. I know what I’m talking about.”

Azrael, looking uncomfortable, said, “I’m sure you do, Mom. I just really, _really_ don’t want to hear about it. It leads to mental images that I would rather not have.”

Looking amused and perhaps a little flattered, Charlotte said, “Are you sure you’re imagining the right things? I’m sure Lucifer has some reading material you could borrow. And there are videos, too. Do you know about the internet?”

“Yes, I do,” Azrael replied, deciding that trying to fight her blush was a lost cause. “On that note, I think I should get going.” She hesitated, then said, “I am sorry about Dan, Mom.”

“Well,” Charlotte said, with forced lightness, “It’s not the worst thing your father’s done to me.” She fussed with the jacket Azrael wore, adding, “Take this with you, sweetheart. It’s chilly, and your brother hasn’t seen fit to stop the rain.”

“I thought Raziel was supposed to be doing _my_ job,” Azrael complained. “How does he have time for this?”

As it happened, Azrael and Charlotte were both looking in the proper direction at just the right time; when the lightning flashed, they both saw Michael waiting down the road.

Azrael heard Charlotte’s sharp intake of breath, saw the look of longing on her face, and hoped desperately that her brother would be civil.

The exasperated look Michael sent skyward as he approached was not encouraging.

“Brother,” Azrael greeted him as he reached them, a warning in her voice.

“Azrael,” Michael acknowledged, adding coolly after a moment, “Mother.”

“Oh, son, I’ve missed you,” Charlotte breathed. She stepped closer to Michael and reached for him, her hand faltering as he stiffened.

“Michael,” Azrael hissed. “Filial piety.”

“I’ve come to take you back,” Michael told Azrael bluntly, ignoring both her rebuke and his mother’s dismay. “I was giving you time to talk, as I didn’t want a repeat of last time, but apparently our brother up there wants to play games.”

Charlotte’s hand sought Azrael instead, and the girl allowed herself to be drawn closer to her mother. After the first gut-punch of surprise, she felt… she wasn’t sure what she felt, as if she were wrapped in blankets and the emotions couldn’t escape.

“Michael,” Azrael began, her tone hinting at her request for more time, but her brother wouldn’t let her finish.

“You have got to be kidding me,” he spat. “What is it this time? I let you tell our mother about the human. Don’t you want to go home, Azrael?” When she didn’t immediately reply, Michael turned to leave, obviously ready to put some distance between himself and his family.

“Michael.” Charlotte’s tone was sharp, a command.

He stopped in his tracks, ingrained by millenia of obedience, however long in the past.

“Give your sister a moment,” Charlotte instructed him, and Michael returned, though reluctantly.

Charlotte cupped Azrael’s cheek gently with one hand. Her blue eyes glistening, the woman said softly, “You can’t give up this chance, sweetheart. Your father will restore you. You’ll be free of that body.”

Azrael caught a flicker of memory: Trixie saying, _I like your body,_ and she almost smiled. Despite its shortcomings, she had found some affection for her current form, though it would never be truly hers. She took a deep breath, willing herself to focus.

Azrael nodded. “I’m sorry, Mom. For… a lot of things.” She stepped away from her mother and approached Michael. “I need time,” she informed him, her voice resolute.

“No,” Michael replied flatly. “No way.” Then he looked up, his focus turning inward. “Our father gives you one day,” he said finally, his manner reluctant. “This time tomorrow, be ready, Azrael.”

Azrael exhaled a soft relieved breath. Then she countered, unable to resist, “Three days? For the symbolism?” She knew better that to suggest forty days and forty nights, despite the rain, but maybe this smaller number would be acceptable.

Michael shook his head, clearly annoyed. “One day,” he repeated, with emphasis. “That’s more than I’d give you, but our father is apparently feeling generous.”

“One day,” Azrael echoed quietly. “Thank you.”

Charlotte stepped closer to her son, and Azrael sighed, knowing how the interaction was likely to go.

“Michael, please,” Charlotte breathed.

Michael turned away, muttering, “I have to go. Azrael, be sure you’re ready tomorrow.” And he took to the air, not bothering to hide his passage.

Azrael stepped to Charlotte’s side and rested a hand on her mother’s arm, the motion tentative. “Don’t let him get to you, Mom,” she urged. “He’s a jerk.”

“He’s still your brother,” Charlotte replied, looking in the direction Michael had taken.

“Well, whose fault is that?” Azrael teased gently, eliciting a short, humorless laugh from Charlotte. “Look, I… I need to go; I have a lot to do before I leave. Will you be okay?”

Charlotte smiled. “Of course, sweetheart. Stop by before you leave, if you can.”

Azrael leaned lightly against her mother for a moment. “If I can,” she agreed. “I’ll try.”

Charlotte drew her daughter close. “And if you don’t get a chance…” She gaze Azrael a long look, weighing her words, then finally said, “Be careful up there.”

“I will,” Azrael agreed. She reluctantly stepped away from her mother, then slipped into the shadows before taking to the air.

Charlotte stepped out from under the awning to watch her daughter’s flight. The rain had slowed, but was still enough to dampen her face. Charlotte couldn’t find it in herself to care, and stayed outside long after Azrael was out of sight. She looked to the sky, listening, but she heard nothing but the rain.

* * *

 

Azrael came to a landing on Lucifer’s balcony, by now completely soaked. “Thanks, brother,” she muttered, already planning what she would say to Raziel the next time she saw him… which would likely be the next day. Azrael’s throat tightened and tension gripped her guts. She tipped her head back, letting the rain fall directly on her face; strangely enough, it seemed to help.

“What are you doing out there?” Lucifer, dressed but for his jacket, regarded her with puzzlement from just inside the penthouse. “You look like a drowned cat.”

Azrael straightened, winking her nose at her brother. “Thank you,” she replied. She arched her wings over her head to keep off the rain, then gave it up as a lost cause and let them fall. “I came to see you. But you look like you’re going somewhere? I can be quick.”

Lucifer shook his head. “Just downstairs,” he replied breezily. “Thought I’d show myself, maybe play a few songs, see what happens from there. Friday night, you know. But that can wait; it’s early yet.” He gestured for Azrael to come inside, then amended, “Wait, let me get a towel.”

“Make it two,” Azrael suggested.

“Right,” Lucifer agreed. He disappeared down the hall, returning quickly with an armload of towels. “Come in,” he said, offering the topmost towel. “Why didn’t you just come up the back way?”

Azrael tucked away her wings and stepped just inside the penthouse, then briskly applied the towel to her hair. “I wanted to fly.” The flight in the rain had cleared her head somewhat, though the misery of damp clothing was rapidly making her regret her decision to remain outside.

“In this weather? Well, you did hit your head not all that long ago.” Lucifer grinned at Azrael’s exasperated huff.

Azrael peered at Lucifer through the curtain of her hair. “Did Mazikeen get in touch?” She returned her attention to her drying efforts, the better to avoid eye contact.

“About Daniel? Yes.” Lucifer’s tone was rather amused, and Azrael risked a look at him. “He and the Detective have hashed things out, apparently, and Daniel has left, likely to do some serious drinking. Oh, don’t worry,” he added easily, seeing Azrael’s concerned look. “Maze sent Amenadiel after him. She also said you went to confess your sins to Mum, but you appear to be in one piece, so the punishment must not have been too awful.”

Azrael shook her head. “She blamed Dad,” she replied, trying not to feel guilty about that. Her parents’ relationship was irredeemable, of course, but some small part of her still wished for something different.

“Well, that’s appropriate,” Lucifer interjected.

“She was nice, actually,” Azrael said, finger-combing her hair. “And of course the conversation turned to… you know.”

“Yes, sex,” Lucifer said, with a hint of amused impatience. “It’s not a difficult word, little sister: just three letters. I’ve seen you say much more challenging ones. But things generally do come round to sex, with Mum.” Azrael eyed him, and he amended quickly, “Not sex _with_ Mum. That’s…” He shuddered.

“I know what you meant.” Azrael set aside the first towel and reached for another, grimacing as she added, “She all but told me to watch porn on the internet.”

Looking amused, Lucifer said, “Well, there’s a time and place for everything, I suppose.” His expression brightening, he asked, “Have you seen Hot Tub High School? It’s not porn, but it certainly has its redeeming qualities.”

“Lucifer, _no_ ,” Azrael protested. “Isn’t that the one where Chloe showed her breasts?”

With a bright grin, Lucifer replied, “Those would be the redeeming qualities I mentioned. It certainly isn’t the writing.”

Azrael shook her head. “I haven’t seen it, and before you ask, I don’t want to. It would be too weird.”

“Your loss,” Lucifer said agreeably.

“So,” Azrael said, trying to steer the conversation back to where she didn’t actually want it to go. “After the whole porn thing - or probably during, now that I think about it - Michael showed up.”

His expression gone serious, Lucifer said, a note of irony in his voice, “I’m sure that went well, Michael and Mum.”

Azrael nodded. “He was awful, of course.” She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Michael came to take me back to the Silver City.” Lucifer stared at her, shocked, and she added, “Whatever Dad wanted me to do, I guess it’s done.”

“He wanted Dan to know,” Lucifer concluded, and Azrael nodded.

“I’m not sure if it was because of Dan and Mom or what, but, yeah,” Azrael agreed. “Considering the timing, that had to be it.”

A darkly suspicious look crossed Lucifer’s face, but then he turned his gaze on his sister. “But you’re here,” he said, with a small, puzzled frown. “You didn’t leave.”

Azrael smiled. “I seem to recall promising you that I’d tell you before I left.”

Lucifer stepped forward, checked himself briefly at the sight of the soggy mess that was his sister, and then leaned down to pull her close. “You promised, but I never thought…”

“What, you thought I’d just take off?” Azrael leaned against her brother, stiff for a moment and then relaxing into his embrace when he made no complaints about his clothing. “Brother, I _promised_.”

“I…” Lucifer didn’t finish.

Azrael nodded, with an understanding sigh. “There have been a lot of broken promises.”

“Yes,” Lucifer agreed. He eased away from Azrael. “Well, now we’re both a bit damp. Lovely. I’ll find you something to change into and we can toss your clothes into the dryer. I do know how it works,” he added, jesting.

Azrael did not let Lucifer deflect, but looked up, meeting his eyes directly. “I said I’d do better,” she said firmly. “And I will.” She held his gaze and smiled when he smiled.

“Thank you,” Lucifer said, his voice husky.

“You’re welcome.”

“Do you want some dry clothes now?” he added lightly.

“ _So_ much.”

Lucifer smiled. “Can you manage not to drip through my entire apartment?” he queried, turning to lead the way to his bedroom.

“Yeah, no promises,” Azrael replied, trailing behind him. “But I have gained some impressive cleaning skills during my time here, so I’ll take care of any drips.”

Lucifer chuckled, and handed his sister some clothing; she ducked into his bathroom and emerged after a few minutes looking pleased to be relatively dry. She draped her mother’s jacket over the back of a chair and took a moment to toss her clothing in the dryer, perhaps preferring her own laundry skills, then rejoined her brother by the bar. He had already poured a drink, and gave Azrael a look of inquiry.

“Just one, thanks.” Azrael took the drink and sat next to her brother, amused to note that he had changed out of his damp clothing.

“Best take your wings out,” Lucifer advised. “They’ll dry more quickly, especially if you shake them out on the balcony. The rain stopped.”

Azrael chuckled, shaking her head. “Of course it stopped. Thanks, Raziel. Sure, I’ll be right back.” She stepped onto the balcony and released her wings, giving them several vigorous flaps to shake off the worst of the water, then returned to her seat, holding her wings up to keep them from trailing on the ground.

“So this rainstorm is courtesy of our brother?” Lucifer queried. “Was he just being a wanker, or was there a point to it?”

Azrael shrugged. “A little of both, I think. You know how he gets. Thinks he’s smarter than he is, wants to show off. He _is_ good with weather, though.”

Lucifer nodded. “So how is it that you’re still here?” he queried, studying his drink. “I would have thought dear old Dad would have hauled you back.”

“I told Michael I needed more time,” Azrael explained. “He wanted to say no, but I guess Dad told him to give me a day. Same time tomorrow, I’m to leave.” Her fingers tightened on her glass, but she did not drink.

Lucifer was silent for a long moment, looking sidelong at Azrael. “Back to the Silver City and the job?” Azrael nodded, and he offered, “Would have thought you’d be happier, as much as you’ve wanted to go back.”

Azrael considered her drink, then nodded. “Yeah. Well, I would have thought that, too.” She drained half her drink, then said, “I like my job.”

Lucifer seaside his own drink in favor of watching Azrael. “That wasn’t very convincing.”

“No, I do.” Azrael sounded sincere, but thoughtful. “Getting the souls where they should be is worthwhile, and I like having something I do well. It just takes a lot of time. He sent me here with nothing to do but this task… tasks. He gave me all this spare time. I like my job,” she repeated, fumbling a little as she tried to express herself. “But it’s demanding. There are so many more humans than there used to be. I’m not… I’ve gotten used to… to living here.” Though her posture was still ramrod-straight, her wings drooped, giving her away.

“You’re going to miss being here,” Lucifer said, restlessness propelling him to his feet.

“Yes,” Azrael agreed. “I’m going to miss the time to play piano, and to read and bake, and… Luci, the people. The reason I decided to tell Dan was that Trixie was looking at me like she thought I could fix everything, and I couldn’t let her down. She was _sure_ that telling Dan would make him see that I’m not just some strange kid, someone he doesn’t want around his daughter. Well, he saw.” A short, bitter laugh escaped her.

Lucifer stepped closer to the balcony, just near enough that he could see the sky. Though the rain had stopped, the clouds obscured the stars. “And now dear old Dad is taking you away from her.”

Azrael looked over at her brother. “We still talking about Trixie?”

Lucifer didn’t turn from his contemplation of the sky. “Who else?”

Azrael shook her head, but didn’t argue. If that was how he wanted it, she wouldn’t push the issue. Not overtly, at least; she knew how well that would go. She drained the last of her drink and set down the glass. With Lucifer facing away from her, she allowed herself to slump, resting her forehead in her cupped hand. “She believed in me,” she said, her voice quiet, but distinct. “She let herself get close, and now Dad’s taking me away from her. What a lovely reward for her faith.”

“Typical Dad,” Lucifer muttered. “He has to interfere. He can’t just leave us… her alone.” He stepped to the balcony and lit a cigarette, after a few tries.

Azrael got to her feet and moved to stand next to her brother, her wings still drooping. She told herself that it was because of the extra weight from the water, but she knew even as she thought it that she was lying to herself. “I’m going to miss her,” she admitted, her words quiet. “I’m going to miss all of them.” She inhaled a shaky breath. “I’m going to miss you, Luci. Even when I first got here and was scared and miserable, it wasn’t so bad, because you were here.”

Lucifer took a deep drag from his cigarette, then exhaled a long stream of smoke. “You could stay,” he offered, not looking at his sister.

Azrael reached toward her brother, then cut off the movement, uncertain of her reception. “You know I can’t,” she replied. “I’m sorry. I… I actually wish I could, but the only way I’ll be restored to myself is to go to the Silver City and face him.” Her insides roiled at the thought of having to see her father; in the past, she had able to fly under the radar, but she was certain that would be impossible, all things considered.

Lucifer exhaled a soft sigh. He knew that would be the answer, and really couldn’t expect anything else. “Well, then what?” He queried, stubbing out the cigarette in a short, vicious movement. “Back to the grind, transporting souls for the old man?” Azrael didn’t answer, and Lucifer added, “What if you just told Dad you weren’t going to do it any more?”

Azrael took a moment to answer, her silence thoughtful. “I… don’t know. I’ve been the Angel of Death so long, I don’t know if I could figure out how to be anyone else.”

Lucifer turned and regarded her steadily, his dark eyes fixed on hers. “You’ve managed pretty well down here.”

Azrael was the one to look away first. “If he wants me to do it, I don’t really have a lot of choice in the matter.” She hesitated, then added, “Luci, I like my job.”

“Azrael.” It took a moment, but she met his gaze once more. Lucifer continued quietly, “You have a night and a day down here. You might take some of that time to think about what _you_ want.”

“What good will that do me?” Azrael queried, her voice quiet and a little bitter. “I’m not you, Luci. I can’t… I mean, small rebellions, yes, but I can’t say to our father, I _will not_ obey.”

“Do you want your job back?” Lucifer persisted. “Not because it’s all you’ve known for millenia, not because it’s a worthy task, not because you’re good at it, not because somebody has to do it. Do _you_ want to do it?”

Azrael’s wings flared, and then she pulled them close to her body once more in an obviously intentional move, her expression frustrated and shading toward angry. “I don’t know, okay?” She glanced toward the penthouse and her clothing. “I have to go,” she said, her words clipped. “I have too much to do. I have to clear my stuff out of Ella’s place, and return some books to the library, and I need to let people know I’m leaving… How am I going to tell Trixie?”

Lucifer caught at her arm before she could go. “None of which is getting done tonight,” he replied gently. “Don’t leave just because the conversation is getting difficult.” Azrael stared at him and he added, his tone a little defensive, “I don’t just play on my phone when I see Doctor Linda.”

Azrael laughed despite herself. “That’s good, Luci. I’m glad.” Her smile fading, she said, “That’s what we tend to do, though. Michael took off instead of talking to Mom, and neither one of us has a particularly good record for sticking around when things get tough. And I haven’t actually been in touch with Amenadiel since the night of the Christmas pageant; we’ve been avoiding each other.” Lucifer inclined his head in rueful acknowledgment of her point, and Azrael added, “I just don’t want to argue with you. Not tonight. Okay? Can we not?”

Lucifer, remembering his small sister hiding from their parents’ argument, nodded. “You never were one for conflict.” He regarded Azrael now, small and damp and honestly looking a little miserable, and suggested, “Stay here tonight.” Seeing Azrael’s incipient protest, he added, “No, it’s fine. You’ve finished whatever dear old Dad wants you to do, and any manipulation of my life has already been accomplished.” He waited for Azrael to nod, then said, “Think about what I said. We don’t have to talk about it or deal with all those messy feelings, but just think about it, all right?”

Azrael took a deep, rather shaky breath, then nodded. “All right.” She managed a smile. “Thank you, brother. I’m glad to be here.”

“Well, we can’t have your last night on Earth be spent on a couch, can we?” Lucifer queried lightly.

“Ella’s couch isn’t so bad,” Azrael observed, with another, stronger smile. “I should let her know I’m staying here,” she added. “I took off in kind of a hurry when Trixie said it was an emergency.” She hesitated, then said, “I… I don’t think I can tell her over the phone that I’m leaving tomorrow. Luci, how am I going to do this? I don’t want to just vanish from people’s lives, but there are so many of them.”

Lucifer poured himself another drink and lifted the lowball glass, studying the amber liquid thoughtfully. “Right,” he said, drawing his sister’s attention. “I can call Miss Lopez and let her know the situation, if you like.”

“Would you?” Azrael replied, a flicker of relief crossing her face. Lucifer nodded, and she said, “Thanks, Luci. I really appreciate that. I… I think I might go get a shower, if that’s okay.”

Puzzled, Lucifer replied, “You just got dry - well, mostly dry.”

Azrael looked a little sheepish. “Brother, there’s a vast difference between flying in a rainstorm and enjoying your shower. I’m very grateful to Ella, but her place has lousy water pressure.” After a moment’s hesitation, she added, “And I don’t want to hear your conversation.”

“Avoiding difficult things,” Lucifer suggested, and Azrael nodded, not bothering to deny it. “Well, at least you’re staying true to form. Go on, little sister,” he absolved. “I’ll take care of it. I can do that much for you.”

“Thanks, Luci.” Azrael peered silently up at her brother, then leaned in to hug him tightly.

“Yes, yes,” Lucifer murmured, though he curled an arm around the girl. “I’ll miss you, too.”

They stood there for a long moment, then Azrael stepped away and into the penthouse, casting a smile over her shoulder.

Lucifer looked after Azrael as she disappeared down the hallway. A few drops of rain fell, and he shook his head, casting a warning gaze skyward. “Don’t start, Raziel.”

The rain stopped.

Lucifer lit another cigarette, then pulled out his phone and chose Ella’s number from his contacts. “Miss Lopez,” he greeted. “Yes, she’s here. Listen, I have something to tell you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's less editing than usual on this one, as I wanted to get it out before the episode tonight, so please be gentle. :) Happy season 3 to those who see it tonight!


	4. Not All That Glitters Is Gold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Azrael wakes to a surprise on the morning of her departure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is for Aeshna_cyanea, who suggested the surprise. :)
> 
> If you choose to look up the Bible verse Maze mentions, it's NSFW.

Something was wrong.

Azrael opened her eyes and, after that initial jolt of recalling that she was returning to the Silver City that evening, realized that something was distinctly off with her wings. They felt stiff and ungainly and just… strange.

She’d slept with her wings out, something she hadn’t done at Ella’s apartment due to lack of space. She and Lucifer had stayed up far later than her body could easily tolerate, talking until they had said everything that could be said and then not talking any more but just being together.

Azrael wasn’t entirely sure how she had gotten to this room, the one that had been hers when she lived in the penthouse; her last memory of the night before was of struggling to keep her eyes open as her brother looked on in amusement. While she had kept to her one drink limit for once, Lucifer had imbibed enough for both of them and then some; Azrael had restrained herself because she’d known that she would need all her faculties for the next day. Despite the lack of alcohol, she still felt stupid and tired, likely due to the late night.

Trying to summon alertness, Azrael arched one wing so she could see it, the motion taking a little more effort than it should have.

Pink. Her wing was _pink_. She twitched the other wing forward and, yes, it was pink as well.

Her wings had been coated with pink glitter. Azrael sat up and realized that glitter also covered the bed, outlining her wings like Tinkerbell’s murder scene. She ran a hand along one wing and while some of the glitter came off on her fingers, the majority of it remained on her feathers.

Azrael flopped back onto the bed with a groan. “I do not have time for this,” she said through clenched teeth. Worse, she wasn’t sure she could fly, not with her wings as they were. And while she was certain that at least some of siblings were watching from above and cackling at her misfortune, and that Gabriel in particular would never let her forget about it, she absolutely could not show her face in the Silver City with her wings like that. The Angel of Death did not have _pink wings_.

Azrael realized that she was thinking of herself as her job once more, and wasn’t entirely sure how she felt about that. It was familiar, but that wasn’t necessarily a good thing. She had, perhaps, gotten a little too familiar with her job, with human lives ending. Was that better than the alternative? She really wasn’t sure.

Azrael pushed aside those thoughts and reached for her phone, choosing the appropriate number from her contacts.

“You’re up! I thought you were going to sleep forever.” Trixie’s voice became muffled, perhaps as she turned away from the phone. “Maze, she’s up!”

“Trixie, where are you?” Azrael queried, her voice carefully neutral. She was unsurprised to learn that the demon was involved; of course she was. Trixie would have needed assistance, and who better to torment an angel than a demon? While she doubted that Trixie’s aim was torment, she had no such thoughts about Maze.

“In the kitchen,” Trixie replied, and Azrael realized that she could also hear the girl’s voice echoing from the hallway as well as over the phone. “Come have breakfast. Well, it’s closer to lunchtime, but it’s breakfast food. Don’t worry; Maze didn’t make it.”

“I’ll be right there.”

Azrael tucked her wings away, changed back into the previous day’s clothing, and pulled her hair into a ponytail at the nape of her neck. She could still _feel_ the glitter, even with her wings disappeared; it made her back itch in that impossible-to-reach spot between her shoulder blades. She found herself rolling her shoulders in an attempt to be rid of the feeling as she strode down the hallway and into the kitchen.

The door had barely swung closed behind her before Trixie barreled into her, knocking her back a step. Trixie locked her arms around Azrael’s waist and burrowed her head against the angel’s chest.

“What?” Azrael said, reflexively catching the smaller girl. She looked to find Maze regarding her, unsmiling. Then Trixie lifted her head to reveal red-rimmed eyes, and Azrael’s irritation faded. “Hey, it’s okay.” She brushed Trixie’s hair away from her face, careful not to let her hand catch on the pink streaks in the girl’s dark locks.

“But you’re leaving,” Trixie protested. Clearly, that counted as Not Okay in her book.

Azrael took a deep breath, hugging the smaller girl closer. “Yeah,” she agreed. “I am.” She cast a look of appeal to Maze, but the demon plucked a double-chocolate donut from the box on the kitchen island and took a deliberate bite of it, making it clear that Azrael was on her own. “My father wants me to go back,” she said, the explanation sounding inadequate even to herself.

Trixie took a short, hiccupping breath, easing back a little but reaching for Azrael’s hand. “Sometimes I don’t do what my dad says,” she confided. “Like when he wants me to brush my teeth, I go into the bathroom and let the water run on my toothbrush, but I don’t really brush my teeth.” Trixie gave the angel a conspiratorial grin, adding, “He doesn’t get the right toothpaste; his is too minty. Mommy gets the bubblegum kind.”

Azrael caught the edge of Maze’s look: eyes widened meaningfully, brows at a sarcastic tilt. Her intent was clear: _See? Disobedience! Even the kid gets it._

Azrael cleared her throat. “Well. This goes a little beyond tooth-brushing, I’m afraid. I really do have to listen to my father.”

Trixie pondered Azrael’s words, then asked, “Will the bears come get you if you don’t?”

“What? No.” Azrael regarded the smaller girl in amused puzzlement. “Probably just my brother Michael. Honestly, I’d rather bears at this point. Michael was kind of a jerk the last time I saw him.” That elicited an amused noise from Maze, though when Azrael sent a glance her way, the demon was stone-faced. She led Trixie to the table, taking a glazed donut from the box as she went. “Do you mean specific bears, or is it just bears in general?”

Trixie grabbed a pink-frosted, rainbow-sprinkled donut. “I was at Bethany’s house last week and she had a Bible in her room,” she explained, before pausing to take a bite of her donut. “Mm, yummy. I knew it was your dad’s book,” she continued, “so I asked if I could see it, and she told me a story about how bears attacked these kids who made fun of a bald guy.”

“Elisha,” Azrael murmured, shaking her head. “All right, not everything in the Bible is from my dad, and the bear thing was _really_ exaggerated, okay? He doesn’t do stuff like that any more.” Maze snorted in derision, and Azrael turned to regard the demon. Knowing that she was making a mistake even as she spoke, that taking her feelings out on Maze was never a good idea, she asked too-sweetly, “Would you like to participate in the conversation with actual words, Mazikeen? Or is that just a little too much for you?”

Maze started forward, one hand disappearing from view, but then she saw Trixie and hesitated, instead giving the angel a look that made it perfectly clear that only the little human’s presence kept her from knocking Azrael on her ass.

Azrael looked away from the demon’s challenging gaze after a moment, though part of her would have welcomed a sparring session; when she and Maze trained, she had no room in her brain for anything but the moment, which would have been a nice change from the current turmoil of her mind. She would have relished a distraction from her worry over her upcoming return to the Silver City.

“Guys,” Trixie protested, drawing Azrael’s attention. “Don’t fight.”

“We’re not fighting,” Azrael reassured, before taking a bite of her donut.

“Not yet,” Maze agreed, with a smirk. “You’ll know when we’re fighting, little human.”

Azrael couldn’t help but smile at Maze’s response. She patted Trixie’s arm, then got up to get some coffee, certain that caffeine could only help her mood. It occurred to her to wonder who had made the coffee, though the question she asked was, “Where’s Lucifer?” She turned in time to see the look Trixie and Maze exchanged, but she couldn’t interpret it.

“He’s busy,” Trixie replied, trying to keep a serious face but not entirely managing it.

Maze added, unconcerned, “Something came up at Lux. He said we should keep you occupied.”

“Is that why my wings are pink and sparkly?” Azrael queried. She gave Trixie a look that requested an explanation, but the girl only giggled.

“Aren’t they pretty?” Trixie asked, clearly delighted.

Azrael took a breath to reply, only to pause as she felt the sharp application of Maze’s elbow to her ribs, though the demon had been several feet away a moment before.

Maze leaned casually against the counter next to Azrael. “Cream and sugar?” she asked, though no coffee additives were present.

Azrael gave Maze an annoyed look, casually lowering a hand to rub at her newest bruise, but she did modify her words to, “Pretty isn’t even the word.”

Beaming, Trixie asked, “Can I see them? It was kind of dark in your room.”

“Ah, that would explain the glitter all over my sheets,” Azrael teased, and Trixie grinned.

“It was kind of messy,” Trixie admitted. “I got some on my hands,” she added, displaying several sparkly fingers.

Maze added, with a wicked smile, “You slept through the whole thing, TD. We could have done _anything_.”

Azrael shook her head, not especially reassured by this comment from Maze. “So, wings,” she said to Trixie. “Let’s go on the balcony, assuming it’s not raining again. They’ll be more sparkly in the sun.”

Trixie bounced to her feet. “No, it’s sunny,” she assured Azrael. “Come on,” she urged, already halfway to the balcony.

Azrael grabbed her donut before starting after Trixie, calling over her shoulder, “Trixie being upset isn’t my fault, Mazikeen.”

“Yeah, it is.”

But the demon followed nonetheless.

“Now,” Azrael said to Trixie, who had perched on a chair on the balcony. “While I appreciate that you wanted to make my wings pretty, this is the sort of thing you should have asked before doing, okay?”

Trixie considered that, then asked, “Would you have said yes?” Azrael hesitated, and Trixie nodded. “That’s what I thought. Lucifer said that if you really, really want to do something, you should do it. And Maze helped.”

“How nice of her,” Azrael muttered. More seriously, she added, “I believe that Lucifer said that, but doing something to someone while they’re sleeping, that’s not okay.”

Trixie nodded, looking contrite. “Sorry, Rae.”

Maze, leaning against the doorway, smirked. She obviously had her own opinions on acceptable things to do to sleeping people. “Just show her the wings, Fun Size.”

Azrael flicked a quick, irritated look at Maze, but loosed her wings nonetheless. She had to admit that the combination of sunlight and glitter was not entirely unattractive, and Trixie’s delighted squeal brought a smile to Azrael’s face.

“Rae, they’re so pretty!” Trixie hopped down from the chair to get a closer look and Azrael arched her wings, preening despite herself.

“What did you use to make them glittery?” Azrael asked.

“In case you want to do it again?” Trixie grinned over at Maze, then added, “It was a spray we got at Walgreens. Don’t worry,” she added, “It comes out in the shower.”

Azrael nodded, relieved. It could have been much worse, after all. “I’m going to have to go get a shower pretty soon, then. I’ve got a lot to do today.”

Trixie pleaded, “Just a few more minutes? Besides, Lucifer took care of some of your stuff already. He said.”

Azrael nodded. “Just a few minutes.” She leaned against the balcony wall, frowning thoughtfully at the mention of her brother. “Is everything okay at Lux? He’s been gone a while.”

“It hasn’t been that long,” Maze replied, her tone not inviting further questions on the subject.

Trixie looked between the angel and the demon and sighed. “I’m gonna get another donut. I’ll be right back.”

Looking after the girl, Azrael asked Maze, with a gesture toward her wings, “Was this really necessary?”

Maze shrugged. “Necessary? Probably not. But it got the little human to stop crying, so it was worth it. You took one for the team, TD.”

Azrael gave Maze a skeptical look, certain that the demon was not motivated solely by altruism, even as she felt guilt twist somewhere south of her collarbone. “My feathers just dried from that rainstorm last night,” she complained.

Unsympathetic, the demon replied, “Let the kid go after them with a blow dryer. She’ll love it.”

Azrael pursed her lips as she considered the suggestion. “That’s… actually a good idea. Thank you, Mazikeen.”

“I know.”

Azrael settled to a seat and took a bite of her donut. “Might want to mention Bethany and her stories to Chloe,” she suggested.

Maze nodded. “On it. But Elisha and the bears, that’s not the weirdest thing in that book.”

Looking amused, Azrael replied, “It was probably a children’s Bible, though. I’m sure they cut out the inappropriate stuff. I mean, Song of Solomon has its nice parts, but it’s not the best for kids.”

Maze smirked. “Ezekiel 23:20.”

Brows lifting sharply, Azrael said, “I didn’t realize you read the Bible.”

“No, I don’t,” Maze replied, with a wry look for the thought. “But Lucifer liked that part. He’s quoted it a couple of times.”

“I’ll just bet he has.” Azrael was quiet for a moment, then looked after Trixie with a worried frown. “Was she really that upset?”

The demon gave Azrael a hard look. “She likes you, so, yeah. She was that upset. I mean, the kid doesn’t know if she’ll ever see you again.”

“She doesn’t need to worry,” Azrael protested. “I mean, I’ll come see her when…” Her voice trailed off, full of uncertainty.

“Yeah,” the demon said flatly. “You have no idea what’s going to happen up there. So you’d better not promise anything you can’t deliver.” Azrael didn’t respond, and Maze persisted, “You can’t just show up when you feel like it, the way you did with Lucifer.”

“That’s not how it was,” Azrael snapped, her voice defensive. “I came when I could. The job -”

“It’s always the job,” Maze replied scornfully. “Look, Lucifer understood how it was, but Trixie doesn’t. And if you lose track of time, which we both know you’ll do, what then? She’s a little kid, but if you take off for years at a time…”

Azrael fumbled to put her half-eaten donut on the small table. “I know. I…” She took a breath. “I’ll see what happens in the Silver City. Take it from there. Maybe my father…” She shook her head, not looking particularly optimistic.

Maze exhaled a huff of exasperation. “I know you’d never cross Daddy on your own behalf, but maybe think about everybody down here. Maybe think about Trixie.”

“I _am_ thinking about Trixie,” Azrael snapped. “What, you want me to go back to the Silver City and say, ‘Hey, Dad thanks for my body. Now I’m going to bail on my job. Bye!’ And that’s assuming I want to bail on my job, which I don’t. I like my job.”

“Whatever, Fun Size,” Maze replied, unconvinced by Azrael’s tone. Shaking her head, she added, “I would have a lot more to say to your father, and I wouldn’t be starting with a thank-you.”

“You’re not the one who has to face him,” Azrael said, her words clipped.

“Yeah, and he’s lucky.”

Azrael got to her feet. “Are you kidding me, Mazikeen?” she demanded incredulously.

Maze folded her arms across her chest and regarded Azrael with a challenge in her eyes, obviously not kidding.

As she usually did, Azrael looked away first. “I actually believe you,” she said, her voice quiet and holding a hint of wonder.

Maze nodded, looking smug. “So when you go see Daddy, tell him you’re going to do what you want.”

“It’s not that simple, Mazikeen,” Azrael replied, frustrated. “My father has his plans, and questioning them doesn’t really work out well.”

Shaking her head, Maze asked, “When was the last time you tried? Before the thing with the bears, right? Maybe he’s mellowed.”

“Maybe he hasn’t,” Azrael replied flatly, trying not to think too hard about the possible repercussions of questioning her father.

Maze studied Azrael, then said, “You’re wound tighter than usual today, Fun Size. Want to try to hit me?”

“It’s a little disturbing that that was your solution,” Azrael said, not bothering to deny that she was tense and not wanting to admit that trying to hit Maze would probably help. Still, she didn’t approach the demon, instead stepping to the balcony wall and looking out over the city.

With a shrug, Maze replied, “Only solution you’d agree to, anyway. Suit yourself.”

Azrael turned away from the view, asking, “Where’s Lucifer?”

“What,” Maze taunted. “Are your feelings hurt that he took off?”

Azrael wasn’t about to admit to that, instead taking a long drink of her coffee.

“And I’ll bet you’re pissed off that we decorated your wings.” Maze added, mood shifting to teasing amusement as she considered the pink, sparkly angel. “Come on, don’t be mad. It’s funny.”

Azrael, catching sight of Trixie approaching, put one hand over her coffee mug, stepped closer to the demon, and flapped her wings hard, dislodging a wave of loose glitter onto Maze. “No,” Azrael replied, not bothering to hide her smile. “ _That’s_ funny.”

Trixie emerged with a donut in each hand; Azrael suspected, given the duration of the girl’s absence, that more that two were missing from the box. “Oh, Maze, you look so pretty!” she enthused. “Now you guys match!”

Maze exhaled a short huff, a puff of glitter escaping her lips, and Trixie giggled. “My turn,” she requested, presenting herself before Azrael. The angel grinned and flapped her wings again; while the gust of glitter was smaller, it was still enough to put a fine, sparkly layer over the girl. Trixie beamed in delight, announcing, “We all match, now.”

“I look ridiculous,” Maze muttered.

Trixie protested, “Aw, Maze!”

Azrael echoed, “Yeah, Maze!” The demon eyed her, and she appended, “-ikeen.” She took up her discarded donut and got to her feet, trying to look more casual, less like she was fleeing. “I’m going to get a shower, since I’m not sure if I can fly with my wings like this, and then could you help me dry my wings, Trixie? That was Mazikeen’s idea,” she added, as Trixie nodded, delighted. “After that I need to deal with my stuff at Ella’s,” she added, pausing as Trixie shook her head.

“Ella’s doing that,” the little girl informed her. “She says to text her if there’s anything you want, and she can take care of the library books.”

“Oh.” Azrael frowned just a bit, but said only, “That’s nice of Ella.” Most of her accumulated possessions, such as her clothing, wouldn’t be necessary, but she could think of a few things that she wanted. She also wanted to bid the tech farewell, but she supposed she could do that when she went to pick up the items she wanted to take with her, like the drawings Trixie had made for her.

Trixie added brightly, “While you get a shower, Maze and I can sweep up the glitter. It’s everywhere; I saw it when I went to the kitchen.”

Azrael couldn’t keep back a smile as she thought of Lucifer’s likely reaction to a penthouse covered in pink glitter. “Thanks, Trixie. Thanks, Mazikeen.” And then she did beat a hasty retreat.

* * *

Despite the shower, Azrael was reasonably certain she hadn’t rid herself of all the glitter. Would she still be finding pink sparkles in her wings when she had been restored to her true form? She wasn’t entirely sure how the change had been accomplished, and so didn’t know if the glitter would remain, but she guessed that she would find out soon enough.

Trixie had, unsurprisingly, loved helping Azrael dry her wings. It had taken a little experimentation to figure out just how to make it work; at one point, Azrael had peered through her feathers to see Maze offering advice to the little girl on proper wing-handling technique.

“What?” the demon had said defensively, seeing Azrael’s curious look. “Your brothers used to have wings. I get how they work.”

“I didn’t say anything,” Azrael had replied, settling back to enjoy their tending. It took a while; though her wings weren’t as large as her brothers’ even when she was in her own body, and were even smaller in this form, they still had a lot of feathers.

She’d checked her phone a few times throughout the drying process, and while Ella had replied to her text about the disposition of her belongings, there had been nothing from Lucifer.

When Trixie (and Maze, not that the demon was likely to admit to her assistance) had finished, Azrael had to admit that her wings looked good. Not that they ever looked _bad_ , of course, but she appreciated the effort and attention, and told them so.

“You’re welcome,” Trixie replied, and though Maze didn’t say anything, she smiled.

Trixie came around to sit in the chair with Azrael, settling lightly against her. “I’m going to miss you,” she said, her voice quivering. She added earnestly, “And not just ’cause you have wings. I liked you before I knew about your wings.”

“I know you did,” Azrael replied, swallowing hard against the sudden ache in her throat. She hugged Trixie close, adding softly, “I’m going to miss you, too.” One wing curled around the little girl, and Trixie hid her face against Azrael’s chest.

“Hey,” Maze said, her voice as gentle as it ever got. “Not to interrupt your moment, but Lucifer just texted. He wants us to come down to Lux.”

Azrael swiped at her eyes with the back of one hand before turning her attention to Maze. “Give us a minute?”

Maze shrugged, but Trixie took a deep breath before pulling away from Azrael, ducking under her wing and moving to the demon’s side. “It’s okay,” Trixie said, trying to smile despite her tears. “Let’s go.”

Azrael didn’t move. “Mazikeen, why?” she protested. “We don’t have to go right now just because Lucifer texted.”

Maze put an arm around Trixie, her voice exasperated as she replied, “Just do it, okay? Your brother wants us downstairs, so let’s go downstairs.”

“It’s okay,” Trixie reiterated. “But can I have a Cosmo?”

“Sure, kid,” Maze replied, just as Azrael suggested, “Maybe a Shirley Temple instead.”

Azrael got to her feet and, after one last look at the city, followed Maze and Trixie to the elevator.


	5. Surprise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Azrael is surprised, and says some farewells.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for your patience! This was tough to write, and life has been getting in the way. I hope to have the next chapter up on Sunday.
> 
> I'm sure I got Dan's final response to Linda somewhere, but I can't recall where. 
> 
> I really appreciate the comments! :)

When they reached the top of the stairs, Trixie pulling Azrael, Maze lagging behind, the shouted “Surprise!” startled Azrael to a dead stop.

“Are you surprised?” Trixie tugged at Azrael’s hand, trying to generate some sort of response from the dumbstruck angel.

Azrael inhaled a deep breath, blinking hard. “I am,” she replied. “Very much.” She eyed the little girl, then, asking, “Is this why you and Maze did what you did earlier, with the spray glitter?” She looked at Maze over the little girl’s head; the demon just smirked.

Trixie, demonstrating her utter mastery of the wide-eyed, innocent look, replied, “Lucifer _said_ to keep you busy…” Before Azrael could say anything else, the little girl pulled her hand away, encouraging, “Go say hi! Everybody’s waiting.”

It wasn’t quite everybody, but somehow Lucifer had gathered most of the people Azrael wanted to tell goodbye. She made her way to the foot of the stairs and spent several minutes greeting the people who waited there before finally reaching Ella and Lucifer.

“How did you manage this?” Azrael asked. “It’s great; thank you so much!”

“Well,” Lucifer replied, looking pleased. “Miss Lopez did a lot of the leg work.”

Ella pulled Azrael into a tight hug. “We couldn’t let you go without a party, chickie,” she added. “And nobody does a phone tree like church people.”

Azrael tried not to cling to Ella, with limited success, though she finally eased out of the tech’s embrace. “Thank you. For this and for everything.” Lucifer slipped into the crowd, and Azrael added, with a brief, distracted look after her brother, “I couldn’t have gotten through these last few weeks without you.”

“Sure, you could have,” Ella encouraged. “But I’m glad you came to stay with me. It was fun.”

Azrael smiled fondly. “It was. Huh,” she realized, with a faint frown, “I’m not going to find out how Buffy ends.”

“Eh, it’s not as good after season five.” Ella studied Azrael for a moment, then asked, “Are you okay? I mean, you’re going home and you’re going to get your body back, right? Isn’t that a good thing? Kind of… more important than a show that’s been off the air for more than thirteen years.”

Azrael nodded, glancing down at herself. “I’m pretty sure I’m going to be restored to myself, yeah. Hopefully. But Buffy is important, too,” she added, with a quick smile.

“That’s going to be a little weird,” Ella observed. “Your new body. Well, old body, I guess. _Really_ old.”

“Hey,” Azrael objected, though she was clearly amused by Ella’s lack of filter.

“I mean, I’ve only ever known you like this,” Ella explained. “Are you tall?” Catching Azrael’s puzzled look, she added, “Your brothers are pretty tall, except Josh.”

“It doesn’t -” Azrael began. She frowned thoughtfully, continuing, “I’m tall-ish, I guess, but it’s not like it’s a genetic thing. We don’t work that way. I mean, Mom and Dad don’t technically have bodies, so they can’t… I mean, please, my parents _never_ …” Seeing Ella’s fascinated expression, and not wanting to fumble over her words any longer, she said, “There’s not really time to explain it. Maybe ask Amenadiel. He understands it better than I do anyway.” And then _he_ could answer the awkward questions.

Ella nodded, looking thoughtful. “Maybe I’ll catch him tonight.”

“Wait, he’s here?” Startled, Azrael scanned the crowd, looking for her eldest brother. “I though he was… I mean, we haven’t spoken in a while.”

“He didn’t think you’d want him to come,” Ella admitted. “But I told him, hey, you’re her big bro! You have to come. And there he is.”

“Well, thanks,” Azrael said, though she did look a little nervous as she considered her brother. “I’ll have to catch up with him later.”

Seeing her expression, Ella said brightly, “Hey, you’ll be fine. He’s your brother!”

Azrael couldn’t help but smile, asking, “You do know that we’re talking about _my family_ , right?”

Laughing, Ella replied, “Okay, good point. But he seemed okay when I talked to him this morning. I think you’ll survive.”

Azrael smiled. “Thanks, Ella. I guess I’d better talk to him now, before I lose my nerve.”

That was not to be, though, as small Michael ran directly into her legs. “Up, Rae!” he demanded, and Azrael obliged, scooping the little boy into her arms.

“You got away again?” Azrael queried, smiling at the boy’s enthusiastic nod. Turning to Ella, she said, “I’m going to find his folks, but I’ll catch you before I go.”

“You’d better,” Ella urged, smiling fondly. She looked after Azrael, then surveyed the party with a pleased nod. “Nice party, Ella,” she murmured. “Good job.”

* * *

 Chloe paused next to the booth in which Lucifer sat watching the crowd. “Hey,” she greeted. “This is great.”

Lucifer pulled his gaze from his sister; Azrael was seated in another booth and chatting with several people from St. Brennan’s and a few librarians, a baby in her lap. “Detective,” he greeted, his smile warming his face. “Join me. Do you need a drink or anything?”

Chloe slid into the booth next to him. “I’m good, thanks. I just can’t believe you pulled this together so quickly.” She turned to survey the crowd and added, a note of sly teasing in her voice, “And I’m kind of shocked that you invited churchgoers _and_ children here.”

Lucifer shook his head, with a quiet chuckle. “Not my usual thing, no. But it’s for Rae. I can manage it this one time. As for everything happening in such a short time, Miss Lopez was instrumental, of course.” Gaze flicking back to the party, where Trixie and a few of the children from St. Brennan’s were involved in a game that appeared to involve a lot of noise, he asked, “Speaking of children, is your offspring all right?”

Chloe turned to look at Trixie as well, exhaling a soft, worried sigh. “Right at this exact moment, yeah. But in general, I don’t know. I mean, she’ll bounce back; kids are resilient. But this is going to be tough for her. She really loves Rae.”

Lucifer nodded, with a small frown. “Maze said she was quite upset this morning.”

“She was,” Chloe confirmed. “It was pretty bad. I really hated having to tell her.” Her lips curving a little, she asked, “Did Maze tell you what they did to Rae to keep her busy? Trixie texted me about it, but not until they were done, or I would have tried to stop them.”

Lucifer reached for his phone, looking amused. “I have photographic proof,” he said, extending the phone to show Chloe. “Rae was probably a little put out, but I wouldn’t worry. I am a little concerned for the state of my flat, however. There’s likely glitter everywhere.”

Chloe couldn’t help but laugh at the picture, or perhaps at the thought of glitter-bedecked floors. “I shouldn’t be laughing at this,” she murmured.

“Of course you should,” Lucifer encouraged. “Pink wings on the Angel of Death: it’s funny! She should look into making it permanent, I think. It’s be good for her image.”

“But doing it while she was asleep,” Chloe persisted, her expression sobering.

“No worries, Detective,” Lucifer reassured, tucking his phone away. “Maze wouldn’t take it too far; not with your offspring there. And look: Rae’s fine.”

Chloe looked as directed, and Azrael did appear to be fine. Perhaps feeling Chloe’s eyes on her, she glanced over and smiled, though she looked away to reply to a comment from Father Joe. Curious, Chloe asked, “What would Maze have done if she had been by herself?”

Lucifer pondered the question, and a slow smile crossed his face. “Best we don’t think too hard about that one,” he said, his eyes glinting with mirth. “Maze does have a wicked sense of humor, as well as a keen sense of vengeance, and she displeased on young Beatrice’s behalf that Rae’s leaving.”

Chloe nodded in rueful acknowledgment of Maze’s sense of humor, then observed, “I think Maze is going to miss Rae, though I’m not going to tell Maze that.”

“Smart,” Lucifer agreed, amused. “I think you’re right, but she’d never admit it.”

Chloe nodded, then asked gently, “So how are you feeling about Rae leaving? I don’t think Maze is displeased just on Trixie’s behalf.”

Lucifer pulled his drink closer. “What, think Dr. Linda isn’t therapist enough?” he quipped. “If you want to play doctor, Detective, I have an alternate specialty in mind: less talking, much more hands-on, shall we say?” He leered cheerfully, adding, “We can go upstairs any time you like… or there’s a little nook back there.” He nodded toward a dark corner of the club.

“I’m serious, Lucifer,” Chloe protested, though her eyes flicked briefly to the indicated corner. She leaned forward, her body angling toward his.

Lucifer arched his brows meaningfully and mirrored Chloe’s posture. In deft mimicry of her earnest tone, he replied, “So am I, Detective.”

Chloe exhaled a huff of exasperation, but didn’t say anything, instead keeping eye contact with Lucifer.

“Fine,” he muttered, looking away. “I’ll miss her, but it’s not like I’m not used to having her disappear.”

Chloe nodded, her expression sympathetic. “You really think she’s going to stay away?”

Lucifer shrugged, glancing briefly at his sister. “It depends on what dear old Dad wants her to do,” he replied, his voice touched with bitterness.

“You don’t think he’ll let her come back?” Chloe queried, tone disbelieving. She looked for Trixie and found that her daughter had joined the group in Azrael’s booth. “Why would he do that? What reason could he possibly have?”

“I have long since given up trying to understand my father’s motivations,” Lucifer replied, his tone distant. Turning to Chloe, he added, a note of pained frustration in his voice, “But she’s come so far while she’s been here. She’s thinking for herself more, instead of just doing what he wants. I…” He sighed, raking one hand through his hair and looking defeated. “He’s just going to brainwash her again.”

Chloe glanced upward with a frown and then covered Lucifer’s hand with her own, the gesture almost defiant. Lucifer dropped his gaze to their hands, and then to Chloe’s face, his manner uncertain.

“I’m here for you, Lucifer,” Chloe said, her voice quiet but sincere. “Whatever you need. But maybe she’ll surprise you.”

For once, Lucifer didn’t make the leap to the obvious sex joke, instead replying, his voice low, “Thank you, Detective.”

* * *

 Azrael took a deep breath and approached the figure at the bar, hitching small Sarah a little higher on her hip. She was not, she told herself firmly, using a baby as a human shield. But Sarah would cry if Azrael passed her off to someone else, and of course Azrael didn’t want her to cry. So she definitely needed to be holding the baby for Sarah’s sake, not her own.

“Brother,” she offered tentatively, and Amenadiel turned, one hand sliding his drink out of sight.

“Hey, little sister.” His smile was equally hesitant, and partly for the baby. “Who’s this?”

Azrael jogged Sarah up and down, and the baby laughed in delight. “This is Sarah. She was Josh, in the play.” She tried not to wince; she hadn’t meant to bring up that night quite so soon.

Amenadiel nodded, letting Azrael’s mention of the play pass without comment. “I thought she looked familiar. Hi, there, Sarah.”

Perhaps it was the sound of her name, or maybe she was attracted by the rich resonance of Amenadiel’s voice, but Sarah turned toward him, one small hand reaching for the angel’s face.

“Huh, I think she likes you.”

Amenadiel chuckled. “Don’t sound so surprised.” He offered Sarah a hand, and she promptly began to gnaw on one of Amenadiel’s fingers.

“Careful; she’s working on a tooth.” Amenadiel didn’t seem concerned by his new role as baby teething device, and Azrael continued, “I didn’t mean to sound surprised, sorry.” She cast her gaze about the room, and settled on a familiar figure. “How’s Dan? Lucifer said Maze had you go talk to him last night.”

Amenadiel finally looked away from the baby to consider Dan as well. “He’ll be okay,” he decided. “He had a lot of questions, and I don’t think he would have been able to ask them of Maze or Luci, or even you.” His gaze returned to his sister and, brows lifting, he asked, “You really had to tell him?”

“I think Dad wanted me to,” Azrael replied, with a small shrug. “I’m glad you could help him, though.” Hesitantly, she added, “Honestly, I’m a little surprised to see him here. He had to know Mom would come.”

Amenadiel nodded. “He’s worried about Trixie. She asked him to be here, and he wants to help.”

“He’s a good dad,” Azrael observed, with gentle emphasis. Though Amenadiel’s brows lifted at the implied comparison to their own father, he only nodded. Azrael added, her gaze shifting to her brother, “I have to admit that I’m a little surprised to see you here, too.”

Amenadiel carefully dislodged his finger from Sarah’s grip and wiped it on a cocktail napkin; Azrael offered her own finger as substitute, which the baby seemed to accept.

“Well, your friend Ella is really persistent,” Amenadiel replied, with a quick smile. “Is she always so high energy?”

Azrael made a sound somewhere between a laugh and a groan. “Oh, you have no idea. Even first thing in the morning, before I’ve had my coffee, she’s that high energy. But she’s great. Really accepting. Um, and I may have suggested that she ask you about why we look the way we do. She was talking about genetics, and this really isn’t the time to have that sort of conversation.”

“So you said I should do it?” Amenadiel replied, with a rueful headshake.

“Do you think Lucifer would be a better choice?”

“Okay, good point,” Amenadiel agreed, looking amused despite himself. “Ella asked if I wanted to go to church with her,” he said thoughtfully. “I just might take her up on that.”

Azrael smiled. “They’re a good bunch of people at St. Brennan’s. You’d like them.” She hesitated, then added softly, “I’m sorry for what happened that night at the church, brother. I… it was a tough evening, and I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.”

Amenadiel smiled ruefully. “I regretted not letting you out of that chair,” he admitted, with a low chuckle. “Did you really turn Michael down that night, when he was going to take you home?”

Azrael nodded, wincing a little and freeing her hand from Sarah’s mouth.

Amenadiel offered another cocktail napkin, which Azrael took with a murmur of thanks. She occupied herself with finger-cleaning and baby-distraction before saying, eyes anywhere but on her brother, “I know that’s not the choice you would have made.”

“Probably not,” Amenadiel agreed. “But I can see why you did. You and Luci always were close. But I guess you’re going back tonight.”

Azrael nodded, meeting Amenadiel’s gaze. “I… yes. I am.”

Amenadiel gave her a level look. “You know Father is going to want to see you, right?”

Azrael tried to hide her nervous tremor, but was fairly certain that Amenadiel’s keen eyes caught it despite her efforts. “I know.”

Amenadiel got to his feet, and Azrael managed to stand her ground, though Amenadiel only rested a hand on the shoulder that Sarah wasn’t clinging to. “Tell him the truth,” Amenadiel advised, his dark eyes serious. “Don’t hold anything back. He’ll know if you do.”

Azrael hesitated, then said softly, “He may not like everything I have to say.”

“Say it anyway,” Amenadiel replied, his voice blunt. “And then keep your head down; follow the rules and do as he bids you.” Azrael didn’t reply, and Amenadiel sighed. “Just don’t do anything stupid, little sister.” He gave her shoulder a quick squeeze, then took his drink and headed into the crowd.

“Amenadiel, wait!” Amenadiel turned, and Azrael offered tentatively, “I can talk to Dad about your… situation, if you like.”

Amenadiel sighed. “He knows about my situation, Azrael.”

“I know. I just…” Azrael stepped closer to Amenadiel, uncertain whether she was doing the right thing but knowing that she needed to do _something_. “Maybe it will help.”

Amenadiel’s expression softened. “All right, little sister,” he allowed. “Maybe it will help.”

Azrael smiled and, greatly daring, stepped close to give her brother a one-armed hug, carefully balancing Sarah with her other arm. Amenadiel, after a moment, hugged her in return. Azrael sighed and leaned against her brother, but then her attempt to step away was hindered by the fact that Sarah had entangled her small fingers around Amenadiel’s necklace and was desperately trying to get to to her mouth.

“Ooh, no,” Azrael protested. “Sorry, Amenadiel. I’ll get it.” It took her a while to dislodge Sarah’s fingers, though Amenadiel seemed amused by the proceedings. “Sorry,” Azrael reiterated. “I think I’d better find her folks.”

Amenadiel nodded, then said quietly, “Be careful up there, little sister.” Azrael nodded, with a smile, and Amenadiel set off once more, heading in Dan’s direction.

Azrael looked after him. “Hey, is that a Cosmo?”

“Cosmos are yummy,” was Amenadiel’s only reply.

* * *

 Azrael returned Sarah to Mary Grace and received hugs from the family in return; noting Sarah’s rising crankiness, they opted to leave the party a little early.

“Now you come see us when you come back to visit your brother,” Mary Grace said firmly, and Azrael nodded, unable to reply. After one final hug from small Michael, the family departed.

“They seem attached to you.”

Azrael looked up at her mother and nodded, trying to smile.

“You’re going to miss them,” Charlotte ventured, and Azrael nodded again. “All these people, here for you,” Charlotte said thoughtfully. “I was just chatting with that one, the one in black,” she added. “He spoke well of you.”

“Father Joe?” Azrael said, her brows lifting sharply. “You talked to him?” She turned to find the priest in the crowd.

“Father?” Charlotte echoed, her tone curious. “He did introduce himself that way. But why do you call him that?”

Gaze sharpening when she spotted the priest talking to Dan, Azrael replied, distracted, “It’s a title, Mom. Everybody calls him that.”

“Oh, he’s a priest?” Charlotte asked, sounding intrigued. “Is he the kind that doesn’t have sex?”

“Mom. Please.” Azrael made a sound halfway between a sigh and a laugh. “You were not sent here to test Father Joe’s vow of celibacy.”

Charlotte drew Azrael close and murmured, “Spoilsport,” her tone holding such a teasing note that Azrael couldn’t help but laugh. “Besides,” she added more briskly, though she still kept an arm around her daughter, “I wasn’t sent here at all, sweetheart. I’m certainly not part of your father’s plan.”

Azrael took a quick breath, her expression growing thoughtful. While she didn’t want to contradict her mother, she had been told so often that _everything_ to do with her family was part of her father’s plan that it was hard to imagine otherwise. Even so, the thought that her mother was there to serve her father’s purpose left her speechless.

“Azrael?” Charlotte prompted, feeling the tension in her daughter’s body.

“Did you see that Dan is here?” Azrael queried abruptly. Charlotte made a noise of inquiry, and Azrael added, “You should talk to him.”

Charlotte gave Azrael a shrewd glance, but went with the subject change nonetheless. “I really don’t think that’s a good idea,” she replied dismissively. “Not right now.”

Azrael looked dubious, but suggested, “Maybe try Amenadiel, then. He and Dan talked last night. He’d know how Dan is doing.”

“I don’t need to know how Dan is doing,” Charlotte countered, though she looked for Amenadiel in the crowd. “I saw you with Amenadiel, before,” she added, her tone fond. “I’m glad the two of you made up. You know how I hate it when you children are at odds.”

“I’m glad, too,” Azrael agreed. “I want to wrap up as many loose ends as possible, which is why you should talk to Amenadiel about Dan.”

Charlotte regarded her daughter in honest confusion. “You want Daniel and me to have sex?”

Azrael protested, sotto voce, “Mom! You can’t say that. There are so many church people here right now.”

Charlotte surveyed the crowd. “Judging from the number of small humans here, church people have sex, too.”

“Okay, point,” Azrael conceded. “But they don’t _talk_ about it.” She shook her head, ignoring Charlotte’s amusement at her embarrassment. “I don’t really care what you and Dan do, as long as you’re both into it I don’t get a blow-by-blow.” She winced at her own phrasing and added a firm, “No details!” as Charlotte’s eyes lit up. Smiling a little, she said, “I just want you to be happy here, Mom.”

Part of that, Azrael admitted privately to herself, was that contentment on her mother’s part meant that the Goddess would be less likely to cause trouble. But her mother didn’t need to know that.

Charlotte’s eyes softened. “My sweet girl. All right, I’ll talk to Amenadiel if it means that much to you. But don’t leave without saying goodbye, okay?”

Azrael nodded. “Of course, Mom.” She watched Charlotte’s departure, then moved purposefully to join Dan and Father Joe.

The priest, spotting Azrael, called pleasantly, “Speak of the Devil; we were just talking about you. All good things, of course.”

Smiling, Azrael pulled up a chair. “That’s good to know,” she replied, ignoring the sudden widening of Dan’s eyes at the mention of the Devil. “I didn’t realize that you two knew each other.”

“Oh, we don’t,” Father Joe replied, with an easy smile. “But we have some mutual acquaintances, such as yourself. I was just telling Dan about the Christmas play; he said his daughter and his ex-wife were there.”

Azrael nodded. “They were. They’re good friends.”

Father Joe said, “Speaking of friends, Jack asked me to tell you goodbye for him. He wanted to be here, but he had a family obligation.”

“Thanks,” Azrael replied, though she didn’t entirely miss the awkwardness that would have been a farewell conversation with Jack. Things had been weird since the night of the Christmas play.

Another partygoer called for Father Joe, and he looked in that direction for before asking, “Could we say a prayer for your trip, in case I don’t get a chance later?”

Azrael shot a quick look of inquiry to Dan, who nodded, though with some hesitancy. Azrael smiled. “That’d be great, Father Joe. Thanks.”

The priest extended his hands. Azrael took one and Dan, after a moment, took both the priest’s other hand and Azrael’s free hand.

“Lord, we come together today to celebrate our friend Rae, who is returning to her home,” Father Joe began. “We are grateful for her time here with us, and for the ways that she has enriched our lives. Let her journey home be easy; let God’s angels watch over her and keep her safe.”

Dan made an odd choking noise, and Azrael gave his hand a firm squeeze.

Father Joe, after a moment’s pause, continued, “Let her find peace at home, but let her return to us soon if it is your will. Amen.”

Azrael and Dan said their amens and let go of each other’s hands. Father Joe kept hold of Azrael’s hand, though he released Dan’s. “We’re going to miss you, Rae. I know God brought you to us, though I wish he could have let you stay a little longer.”

Azrael, her voice a little husky, replied. “Me, too, Father Joe. Thanks.”

“I’ll pray for you.” The priest smiled and, with a murmured farewell to the pair, left in search of the person who had called him.

“So.” Dan shifted awkwardly in his seat, clearly uncomfortable. “Does that stuff really work?”

“Prayer?” Azrael shrugged. “Honestly, I’m not sure.” Seeing Dan’s puzzled look, she chuckled. “I don’t have all the answers, no. I’m actually kind of low on the list of favored offspring. Dad doesn’t interfere an awful lot; you guys have your free will and all. Josh likes the occasional miracle, though. Hey, sorry to spring that on you,” she added, her expression sincere and a little sheepish. “I enjoy Father Joe’s prayers, and I didn’t want to miss out. Not sure if you’re a believer or not.”

“Well, now I kind of have to be, don’t I?” Dan queried, his expression wry. Tentatively, he added, “He asked for angels to watch over you.”

Azrael nodded, making a face. “I’m sure they are. And, seriously, you need to do better with your reactions. Father Joe didn’t mean it quite as literally as we do.”

Sounding irritated, Dan said, “I didn’t exactly ask for this knowledge, and I’m still getting used to it all. Give me a break.”

Azrael inclined her head. “Okay, true. Sorry. I’d just rather not spread the information any more.”

Dan was silent for a moment, taking it all in as he looked around the crowd. “But don’t you want to tell them? I mean, you’re lying to all these people,” he accused, though his voice was quiet.

Azrael smiled faintly. “I never said I was like them,” she countered. She could see from Dan’s frown that this wasn’t an acceptable response and added seriously, “Despite all of Lucifer’s comments about who he is, we’re not usually supposed to tell. I feel a little guilty not being entirely honest, but often you humans can’t handle proof of the divine.”

“But I can?” Dan protested. “My _little girl_ can? She’s just a child.”

“She’s handled it better than anyone,” Azrael replied sharply. She took a deep breath, then, obviously reining in her temper. “Don’t underestimate her,” she added, more gently.

Dan took a sip of his drink; it looked like a soda, and Azrael guessed that he was wishing it contained alcohol. “Why us?” he asked finally, a plea in his voice.

Azrael shook her head. “I wish I knew,” she replied, her tone full of regret that she didn’t have more answers. “They aren’t kidding when they say Dad works in mysterious ways.”

Dan studied the ring of condensation left from his drink. “Last night, you said your father wanted me to know. Was… was it because of your mother?”

Azrael could see that Dan was getting tense: the set of his shoulders and his stiff posture made it obvious. “My father would never hurt you,” she assured him. “Nor any of my siblings. There are rules.”

Dan shook his head, laughing humorlessly. “That’s not the most reassuring response you could have given, Rae. And Lucifer punched me, a while back. It hurt. So much for that, huh?”

“Because Lucifer is known for how well he follows the rules?” Azrael suggested, smiling despite herself. Dan inclined his head in wry acknowledgment, and Azrael continued more seriously, “I honestly don’t know my father’s motivations. Mom thinks he’s trying to mess things up with the two of you, but she… well, she does tend to make things about herself.”

Dan muttered, “I have noticed that, yes.”

Azrael suggested carefully, “They were together, but it was a long time ago, and it wasn’t a great relationship for a while even before things ended. And then…”

“She was in Hell,” Dan concluded. “Literal Hell.”

“Yeah,” Azrael agreed. “So maybe she could stand to catch a break. No pressure,” she added, obviously sincere. “But maybe give her a chance.”

Dan looked away, then asked, in an obvious subject change, “Are angels watching us right now, like the priest said?”

With a quick, exasperated glance skyward, Azrael nodded again. “Probably. Michael’s kind of nosy and Gabe is always looking for a joke and Josh likes to keep an eye out. It’s probably entertaining for them,” she realized, her expression going wry. “It can be a little too much of the same old thing up there, if you don’t have something to keep you busy.”

“Josh?” Dan echoed. “You said he likes miracles. I don’t remember an angel named Josh.”

“No, you know him as Jesus,” Azrael supplied.

Realization hitting him hard, Dan said slowly, “Trixie mentioned your brother Josh. She said she met him.” He stared at Azrael, getting that wide-eyed look.

“Deep breaths,” Azrael suggested, and Dan inhaled a gulp of air. “Trixie’s met Josh, yes. He’s good with kids. Look, I’m sorry about dumping all this on you last night. I really don’t like having to enlighten and run, but I don’t have any choice in the matter.”

“It’s okay,” Dan replied, the words automatic. He swallowed hard, then said, “Ella said that you’re going home.”

“To the Silver City,” Azrael agreed, her eyes distant.

Dan asked, “That’s Heaven?” and Azrael nodded. “That’s… really weird to think about. I mean, that it’s an actual place. Whenever I thought about it, it was more as a concept than as a place where people - angels - actually live.”

“I’d love to tell you it’s not all that, but it kind of is,” Azrael admitted, with a small smile. “It’s beautiful there.” Still, her gaze flitted through the crowd before coming back to Dan. “Nice talking with you, Dan. I should…” She gestured back to the party, getting to her feet.

“Rae?” Azrael turned back to him, anticipating questions, but Dan surprised her by saying, “There’s a lot going on here that I don’t know anything about, but I know my daughter really cares about you. So be careful.”

Azrael nodded seriously. “I will. Thanks, Dan.” She got a few steps away, and then turned back to him. “Oh! I almost forgot. Get bubblegum toothpaste for Trixie.”

Looking confused, Dan asked, “Was that a message from your father?”

Azrael shook her head. “I’ll bet Dad is a fan of good oral hygiene in general, but he doesn’t care what flavor toothpaste you use. Free will, remember?” She smiled and headed back to the party.

Dan stared after her. “What a weird family,” he muttered.

Linda sat down in the chair that Azrael had vacated. “How’re you holding up, Dan?” She offered him a glass of amber liquid, which he took with obvious gratitude.

“This is…” Dan shook his head and took a quick drink. “I don’t even know. How do you deal with all this?”

Linda smiled. “First, you remember that all these… beings haven’t really changed,” she replied gently. “They’re still the same folks you know. You just know a little more about them.” Dan nodded, and Linda continued, “Then you take a breath.” Dan did, and Linda said, “Let it out. Now another.”

“I can do that,” Dan said slowly. “I’ve been doing that since I was little.”

Linda clinked Dan’s glass with her own and they watched the party in silence, content for the moment just to breathe.

* * *

 Leaning lightly against the edge of the bar, Azrael let the sounds of the party wash over her, her eyes closing. It was hard to comprehend that she didn’t know if - no, when, _when_ she was going to see these people again. She listened to the thrum of conversations and took a deep, quivering breath.

“Are you all right, Rae?”

Azrael opened her eyes to see Margaret watching her with gentle concern. Another of the teachers from the music school stood nearby, though far enough for privacy.

“Yes,” Azrael replied, doing her best to push aside her emotions. “Thanks for coming.”

Margaret smiled, reaching to rest a hand on Azrael’s arm. “We’ll have to go soon, unfortunately, as I have a makeup lesson to teach. I’m sorry to hear that you’re leaving us. You have a piano back home, yes?” Azrael nodded, and Margaret continued, “I know I don’t have to tell you to practice. But I wanted to ask if you would play me one more song before I go.” Seeing Azrael’s glance toward the crowd, Margaret added, “Such a lovely piano your brother has.”

Azrael smiled. “He does have good taste in pianos,” she agreed. She resisted the urge to mention the second piano upstairs, and privately resolved to make an anonymous donation to the music school. It had been a haven to her, after all.

“So will you show me how it sounds?” Margaret prompted. As Azrael hesitated, she added, “Maybe another duet with your brother?”

“If he’ll agree,” Azrael said finally, and Margaret smiled. The two made their way to where Lucifer sat with Chloe, slowly in deference to Margaret’s pace with her cane; the second music teacher followed several steps behind.

“There’s the guest of honor,” Lucifer greeted, though his smile seemed pulled on and lacked his usual spirit.

Azrael hesitated at her brother’s expression, and Margaret jumped in to say, “I was trying to convince your sister to play for us, so I can hear your lovely piano. She seems a little shy about performing in front of everyone, so I thought the two of you might play another duet.”

“Will you threaten me with your cane again if I say no?” Lucifer quipped, and Chloe gave the tiny piano teacher a second, assessing look. Still, Lucifer didn’t wait for Margaret’s response, instead turning to Azrael and asking, “Is that what you want?”

Azrael nodded, though her manner was tentative. “If you wouldn’t mind, I’d love to play together one… one more time.” She’d almost said one _last_ time, and from the sharp look Lucifer gave her, he’d caught the substitution. “Please, brother,” Azrael added softly.

Lucifer studied his sister for a long moment, and then nodded, with another of those sad smiles. “If you’ll excuse me, Detective? Won’t be a moment.”

Chloe nodded, then watched silently as the siblings moved toward the piano, followed at some distance by the music teachers.

She wasn’t alone in the booth for long, though; Trixie slid next to her, immediately snuggling in close.

“Hey, monkey, how are you doing?” Chloe greeted, hugging the little girl even closer.

Trixie sighed, not answering immediately. “I don’t want her to go,” she said finally.

Chloe exhaled a soft sigh of her own, her heart breaking for her daughter. “I know, baby. I don’t think any of us wants her to go.”

“Why is her dad making her come home?” Trixie asked, twisting to peer up at her mother, eyes already shining with unshed tears.

Chloe took a moment to try and find the right words. Trixie had asked the same question that morning, though then it had been louder, anguished. Then, Chloe had stumbled over her words in an attempt to find something, anything to help her daughter find peace. She had known, even then, that it wouldn’t be easy.

“He needs Rae to help him,” Chloe said finally.

Trixie’s expression darkened, her brows lowering in a way that had presaged a tantrum when she was much smaller; clearly, this wasn’t a good enough reason for her friend to leave. Chloe took a deep breath, preparing to deal with whatever was about to happen, but then Lucifer and Azrael reached the piano, and Trixie caught sight of them. She settled against Chloe, preparing to watch; it was only because Chloe was listening so closely that she heard her daughter whisper, “Then I don’t like Rae’s dad.”

Chloe couldn’t exactly blame Trixie. She didn’t say anything, but only drew her little girl closer, her attention turning to the piano as well.

* * *

Lucifer let Azrael sit first, taking the higher range, and then settled in next to her. Though there was no announcement of the impending music and the lighting didn’t change, the people nearest to the piano quieted, noticing the pair.

Without consulting Azrael, Lucifer began to play. He sent a quick glance at his sister, seeing her surprised smile before the music took his focus. And then she joined in at the right moment, the high notes and the low interweaving just so. He closed his eyes, losing himself in the song.

Seated near the piano, Margaret frowned thoughtfully as the music began. While the piece held echoes of Beethoven’s boldness during his Heroic Period, she couldn’t place it. The composer was… Margaret didn’t know, and that surprised her. She sent a look of inquiry to her fellow teacher, who shrugged, obviously baffled as well. After a few moments, when the thundering chords of the opening transitioned into something intricate and heartbreakingly sad, she stopped trying to identify the piece and closed her eyes, the better to listen.

They hadn’t played this piece in millenia, but Lucifer still remembered every chord; so, it seemed, did Azrael, for she didn’t miss a note. Lucifer felt his lips curving in a smile as he neared the end of the piece.

He didn’t want it to end, but eventually it did. All conversation had ceased while they played; everyone listened with rapt attention. The crowd gave the song its due: a moment of silence before the applause began.

Azrael heard none of it, though, as her brother had her full attention. “Good choice,” she said, her eyes shining.

Lucifer didn’t reply immediately, his hands still on the keyboard, his gaze distant. “I’m glad you remembered it,” he said finally. “Would have been awkward if you’d just sat there.”

“How could I forget that of all songs?” Azrael replied, resting a hand on her brother’s shoulder. Before she could say anything more, though, Margaret appeared at their side.

“That was lovely,” the woman said, obviously moved by the music. “But who wrote that piece? What was it?”

Lucifer gave his sister the tiniest of headshakes, and she smiled at Margaret. “I’m glad you liked it,” she replied. “It’s very old. I’m not sure that it has a name.”

Margaret looked rather disappointed, but leaned down to hug first Azrael and then a rather startled Lucifer. “Thank you for sharing it with us.”

Lucifer nodded, straightening his jacket. “You’re very welcome.”

As if the end of the song had been a sign, the party started to break up at that point. People gradually departed, until the only ones who remained were those who knew Azrael’s actual destination that evening.

“Let’s move this upstairs,” Lucifer suggested. “Bit cozier.”

The group filed into the elevator, Trixie reaching for Azrael’s hand once more. They made the ride in silence, and once they arrived, after everyone was settled, the tone of the gathering remained a little subdued.

Everybody knew that the wait was nearly over, that Azrael would soon make her departure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think that the story could end with the next chapter, which wraps up the party and ends with Azrael's departure. I also have part of a chapter written with her arrival in the Silver City which I can finish, if folks are interested. Please let me know! Either way, we are very near the end.


	6. Time to Put Away Childish Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Azrael makes her final farewells.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the response to the previous chapter! I will be writing one more chapter, with Azrael's return to the Silver City. I'm hoping it won't take long, but Dad is challenging to write and I have some other obligations.

 

Azrael, needing to get away from the mournful looks she was receiving, ducked into the bathroom. When the door clicked shut behind her, she exhaled a soft sigh and stood before the sink. Turning the cold water tap on full force, she let the water pool in her cupped hands before splashing it on her face.

The chill helped a little, and she repeated the process, then turned off the water and reached blindly for a towel. Enjoying the feel of the plush cloth, she took her time about drying her face, breathing deeply.

Azrael hung up the towel and studied herself in the mirror, automatically fixing her hair. She had almost gotten used to seeing this face instead of her own, and part of her would miss…

Well, no. She wouldn’t miss this body, with its youth and its frailty. But what this body represented, the lack of responsibility, that she would miss. She had been the Angel of Death for so long that she had forgotten the freedom of those years before her father had given her that job.

She pulled her hair away from her face and took a deep breath. As she prepared to face the group once more, a soft knock sounded.

“Who is it?”

“It’s Linda. Is everything all right?”

Azrael hesitated. How could she even answer that question? “Yes.”

“Can I come in?”

Azrael opened the door, then retreated to lean against the sink once more.

Linda entered the room, easing the door closed behind her. “I don’t want to intrude if you’re actually _using_ the bathroom, but I saw your face before you went in here and thought, maybe not.”

“Maybe not,” Azrael agreed, with a small smile. “I was about to go back out, but, yeah, it got to be a little much.”

Linda glanced around the room and, shaking her head, perched on the toilet. “I think this bathroom is nicer than my office.” She considered Azrael rather speculatively, then, as if assessing her mood.

Azrael chuckled quietly, shaking her head. “Lucifer doesn’t do anything by halves, including bathrooms.” Exhaling a small sigh as she noted Linda’s look, she said, “Look, I appreciate you coming in here, but I’m okay with what’s happening tonight. I’m ready. Mostly. I just needed a minute.” She made a wry face. “So I ended up hiding in the bathroom.”

“There’s no shame in needing a break sometimes, even from people you care about,” Linda observed.

Azrael smiled faintly. “Considering my job, I guess it’s not a surprise that crowds can be a little overwhelming. I loved seeing everyone,” she hastened to add, “And I’m so glad that Luci and Ella did that. But it’s a little easier now that most of the people left.”

“The Angel of Death is an introvert,” Linda mused. “That makes sense, I suppose.” She looked over to Azrael with a smile. “It’s nice that at least some of this makes sense.”

“Glad we haven’t completely shattered your worldview,” Azrael said lightly.

Linda chuckled, a low, throaty sound. “Oh, I definitely wouldn’t say that. It got smashed to pieces the day your brother showed me his other face. But we’re not talking about me.” She considered Azrael once more, then observed, “Sometimes waiting for something can be harder than the actual thing.”

“Yes,” Azrael agreed, her voice quiet but fervent. “I asked for more time and I’m grateful to my father for granting my request, but this has been a little tough. Not that what comes next is going to be easy, but I almost want to just go. Rip off the Band Aid.”

“What does come next?” Linda queried, perhaps curious, perhaps wanting to draw Azrael out.

Azrael admitted, “I’m not sure. I go back. I face my father.” She took a deep breath, balling her hands into fists. They were shaking; she knew that.

“And that scares you?” Linda prompted. Azrael gave her long look, brows lifting, and Linda acknowledged, “I can understand that.”

“He said things would be different when I came back, I think.” Azrael sighed, repeating, “I think. It was after I fell, and I’d hit my head. That whole day is kind of a blur, which is probably for the best. But if it’s going to be different, well, I don’t do well with change.”

Linda looked Azrael up and down. “Then coming here to Earth must have been challenging.”

Chuckling, Azrael nodded. “I was hung over on your couch, that first morning. So yes. I mean, getting my body back, and my powers, that will be good. But one of my brothers has been doing my job all this time, and I’m sure he didn’t do it right.”

“And you want your job back?” Linda asked, not commenting on Azrael’s brother’s job skills.

Azrael didn’t answer right away. “I’m just not sure how to be anything else,” she said finally. Making a face, she said, “There’s no point in getting myself tied up in knots over it. I’ll find out what’s happening soon enough, if I can get through the rest of this party. I just feel like everything I say now has to be so profound.”

Linda smiled. “It doesn’t, though. You don’t even have to say anything. We’re just glad to have a little more time with you before you have to leave.”

Azrael nodded, though she looked unconvinced. Fiddling with the towel, the better to avoid eye contact, she said, “They’re all looking at me like I’m going to die; well, almost all of them are.”

“We know you’re not going to die,” Linda reassured. “You just won’t be here. And knowing that, and the uncertainty of it all, can be difficult. They’re trying.”

“Not dead,” Azrael mused. “Just Death. Maybe.” Whimsically, she intoned, “Now I am become Death, the destroyer of worlds.”

Brows lifting, Linda said, “Oppenheimer said that, about the bomb. Is there something you’re trying to say?”

Azrael shook her head. “Don’t worry. I’m not predicting the end of the world just yet. I just like the quote; I’ve got it on a cross-stitch at my place back East. Oppenheimer was actually quoting the Bhagavad-Gita, though, which was definitely not about bombs.”

After a moment’s pause for that _just yet_ , Linda queried, with a laugh, “Where would you even get a cross-stitch like that?”

“Etsy, of course,” Azrael replied, amused. “What, you think I have time to sit around and do cross-stitch?”

Shaking her head, Linda agreed, “Of course not.” She got to her feet and came to stand next to the angel. “I’m glad you came to stay with Lucifer, Rae. It’s been good for him, having you here.” Azrael smiled, and Linda continued, “And I particularly appreciate that other people know who you all really are now. Having people to talk to, it really helps.”

Azrael smiled. “I’m glad. You of all people should have someone to talk to, as much as you’ve helped my family.” She took a deep breath, then stepped away from the sink. “I think I’m ready to go back out there. Thanks, Linda.”

“Any time, Rae.” Linda caught at Azrael’s arms as she passed. “You’ve touched a lot of lives. All those people down there, showing up at a moment’s notice, they proved that.”

Azrael made a sound that wasn’t quite a chuckle, her throat tightening with a sharp ache at the thought of leaving her friends and family. Ella had hugged her at least four times in the past hour. Azrael almost couldn’t bear to look at Trixie, as the little girl’s forlorn expression almost broke her heart. Leaving her mother after they’d had such a short time together brought back all the times she’d missed her mother’s presence when she was younger. 

And she hadn’t managed to find time alone with Lucifer, though, if she was being honest with herself, she was dreading that particular farewell the most.

“Thanks, Linda,” Azrael repeated softly, before she moved to the main area of the penthouse. Spying the only one who hadn’t been giving her mournful looks standing alone at the bar, Azrael came to a halt next to her.

“I’m glad to catch you,” she said. “I have a favor to ask.”

“Favors are Lucifer’s thing,” Maze replied promptly.

Azrael’s eyes slid to the demon, then found her brother, who was speaking with Amenadiel. “Well, he can’t handle those one, so I hope you’ll say yes anyway.”

Maze followed the direction of Azrael’s gaze, then guessed, “It’s about Lucifer.”

Azrael nodded, that ache closing her throat for a moment. “Will you keep an eye on him?” This time, she met the demon’s gaze, her expression pleading. “You know he can be -”

“Reckless and self-destructive?” Maze suggested. Azrael nodded, and Maze said, “I can’t promise he won’t do something stupid, but I’ll haul him back from the edge if he needs it. I always do.”

Azrael smiled, relieved. “Thank you. They, even the humans who know, I’m not sure if they can really understand how it is to live life with an eternity behind you, and another yet to come.”

With a shrug, Maze agreed, “Probably not. But that’s why he likes being around them.” She smiled suddenly, a certain predatory gleam in her eyes. “I’m doing you a favor.”

“Ye-es,” Azrael agreed, trying not to be too obvious about edging away from the demon, though she assumed that Maze saw anyway.

Maze smirked. Of course she saw. “So you owe me a favor in return. That’s how it works, you know.”

“Maybe I should rephrase my request,” Azrael suggested.

“Oh, no,” Maze drawled, looking disconcertingly pleased. “You said _favor_ and I said I’d do it. You owe me.”

Azrael sighed. “Fine. What do you want?”

With a grin that displayed a little too much in the way of teeth for Azrael’s comfort, Maze asked, “You think I’m calling it in now? No way, Fun Size. I’m going to enjoy holding this over your head.”

Azrael hesitated, then pointed out, “I hate to mention it, but my time here is down to minutes. While I’m sure you could pack a lot of torment into those minutes, holding a favor over my head doesn’t seem to be that bad.”

“Oh, you have no idea what I could do with a few minutes,” Maze drawled, smirking when Azrael’s eyes widened. “But since you owe me,” the demon added, with a smug smile, “You have to come back.”

Azrael pursed her lips in thought, then ventured, “It’s not entirely my choice.”

Maze shook her head. “That’s not good enough, TD. You owe me, so you have to come back. I always get what’s owed to me, and you do _not_ want me storming Heaven to get my favor.”

“No,” Azrael agreed, though the mental image elicited a quick, reflective smile. “I’ll do my best,” she agreed, her smile fading as she thought about not only this favor, but also the one owed to her brother.

Maze, after an assessing look at Azrael, put a decanter and a glass before her. Seeing Azrael hesitate, she said, “Last chance, Fun Size. You know they don’t have _this_ in Heaven.”

With a small shrug of agreement, Azrael poured herself a drink, though she only sipped it. Much as she’d love to disappear into a haze of alcohol, she knew that would be a poor choice, all things considered.

“There are a lot of things they don’t have in Heaven,” Maze said pointedly. Azrael regarded her, brows lifting, and the demon added, “No coffee there. No booze. No butts to look at; those stupid robes hide everything fun.”

“Mazikeen,” Azrael protested.

“No mommy in the Silver City,” Maze continued relentlessly, and Azrael sank to a seat. “No Lucifer. None of these humans you like so much, not until _you take them there_.”

Azrael inhaled a sharp breath as realization struck. She tossed back her drink and gripped the glass, her eyes closing at the thought of seeing each of her friends at the moment of their death.

“Still want to be the Angel of Death?” The demon wasn’t even taunting now, but her words twisted nonetheless.

“Hell’s finest torturer,” Azrael whispered. “Trixie’s not the only one who doesn’t need knives. But it’s not my choice, Mazikeen.”

“Isn’t it?” Maze gave Azrael a long look, then turned her back on the angel, stalking to Linda’s side.

Azrael, trying to make her expression less grim, moved to sit next to Trixie on the couch. After a moment, Charlotte moved to her other side. Leaning so she could see past Azrael, Charlotte nodded to Trixie. “Hello, orchid mantis.”

Trixie smiled. “Hi, Rae’s mom.”

Azrael found that she couldn't say anything at all. 

* * *

 

When the appointed time arrived and a whoosh of air from the balcony signaled a celestial arrival, Azrael was not the only one relieved to see that the sibling come to collect her was Josh.

“Well.” Azrael cleared her throat and tried again. “Guess it’s time to go.” She made as if to rise, but Trixie’s hand tightened on her own.

“Don’t go, Rae,” Trixie whispered urgently, her eyes on Josh as he approached.

“Trixie, babe.” Chloe started forward, but Josh smiled and shook his head as he passed her. Chloe, frowning a little, subsided.

Josh reached the couch and offered Charlotte a respectful nod. “Ma’am,” he greeted her.

Charlotte stiffened, but inclined her head in reply, not deigning to answer verbally.

Josh hunkered down before Trixie. “Rae needs to leave now,” he said simply. “Our father wants her to come home. But it’s going to be okay.”

Trixie regarded Josh with profound skepticism. “Are you like Lucifer?”

Josh lifted his gaze to meet Lucifer’s and the half-brothers shared a wry smile that this child would compare them, of all their father’s children.

“In what way?” Josh queried. He turned his full attention to the little girl, his expression serious.

Trixie cast a glance over her shoulder at Lucifer. “He never lies,” she replied, turning her gaze back to Josh. “If he told me it was okay, I’d know he wasn’t just saying it because I’m a kid. Kids aren’t stupid,” she added firmly.

“They aren’t,” Josh agreed. “And I don’t lie, either. Lucifer and I are alike in that way.” He looked at Azrael, then turned back to Trixie before he rested his palm lightly on their joined hands. “It’s going to be okay.”

Trixie studied Josh for a long moment, her dark eyes intent, and then nodded. “It better be,” she informed him, her small face very serious. After one final look at Josh, she turned to Azrael, hugging the angel tightly. “Bye, Rae,” she said, obviously struggling not to cry.

“Goodbye, Trixie,” Azrael murmured into Trixie’s hair. Her wings unfurled, curling around the little girl and Trixie ran her fingers along one wing.

Trixie clung to her friend for long enough that Chloe started forward, but finally the little girl moved away and flung herself into her mother’s arms with a wail of “It’s not fair!”

“That was some vague comfort you gave the child,” Lucifer observed dryly to his half-brother, as Azrael tucked away her wings and began to make her farewells.

Josh, his dark eyes full of compassion, smiled in return. “But it was true nonetheless.” He watched Azrael hug first Charlotte and then Ella before he added, “Dad knows what he’s doing, Lucifer.”

“You say that _now_?” Lucifer protested, moving toward Josh with obvious intent. “You self-righteous, holier-than-thou little -”

“Hey, Josh, give us a minute?” Azrael deftly inserted herself between her brothers, and Josh, lifting his hands in a gesture of surrender, stepped further into the penthouse, ending up next to a gobsmacked Dan.

Maze, seeing an opportunity for fun, said, “Jesus, meet Dan. Dan, Jesus.”

“Call me Josh,” that individual suggested, offering a hand.

“Holy shit,” Dan breathed as he shook Josh’s hand. “I mean, sorry…”

Gaze sharpening, Maze asked Josh, “So is it _your_ shit they’re always talking about?”

Josh, after a puzzled look, shrugged. “Could be. You should see what they did with my old towel.”

* * *

 

“Right,” Lucifer murmured, looking after Josh. “Wouldn’t do to smack him in the nose, would it?”

Azrael shrugged. “Sometimes a little violence is a good thing, but maybe not just now.”

Lucifer smiled. “That’s Maze’s influence.” Azrael inclined her head in rueful acknowledgment, and Lucifer added, too lightly, “I guess that’s it, then. Call him back. Time to go; off you pop.”

Azrael shook her head. “You’ve been avoiding me all night. You’re not getting off that easily.” Seeing Lucifer grin at her phrasing, she lifted her eyes skyward. “That’s something I’m not going to miss: the way you make everything about… you know.”

“Sex, yes,” Lucifer murmured, amused.

Azrael continued as if he hadn’t said anything, “Or how you can get away with saying anything because of that ridiculous accent. Or -” And suddenly she choked back a sob, twisting so that her back was to the rest of the room.

Lucifer steered her out to the balcony until she was out of sight of the others. “It’ll be all right,” he murmured.

After inhaling a shaky breath, Azrael said, “You said that to me my first night here; do you remember?” Lucifer nodded, and Azrael continued, trying to smile but not entirely succeeding, “I was terrified out of my mind, and you made me feel better.”

“With copious amounts of alcohol, I seem to recall,” Lucifer quipped, and Azrael made a wry face, the picture of a small, annoyed sister.

“Will you please stop making jokes?” she asked, wiping at her eyes with the heel of one hand and then murmuring her thanks as Lucifer fished a handkerchief from a pocket and offered it to her. “I’m trying to get all this out before Josh says it’s time to go.”

“You don’t have to say it,” Lucifer reassured her.

“I _do_ ,” Azrael replied, with such vehemence that her brother’s eyebrows arched in surprise. “People don’t tell you thank you enough; not for the important things. So thank you, brother. Thank you for letting me stay here when you thought Dad was using me to mess with you. Thank you for coming to that ridiculous play, and for not taking off my head over showing Chloe my wings. Thank you for finding me when I took off; I didn’t realize it, but I needed you. Thank you for letting move out of the penthouse, even though neither of us wanted that.” She wiped at her eyes, obviously frustrated with her tears, but needing to continue nonetheless. “Thank you for putting up with me, despite this stupid body and how I can’t stop crying right now. Thank you for making me smile. Thank you for showing me how a brother should be, which is hard enough to find in our messed-up family.” Unable to speak, she covered her face with her hands, giving in to her tears at last.

Lucifer, his expression nearly blank with shock, sat on a nearby chair and pulled Azrael close; she threw her arms around his neck, burrowing her head against his shoulder. “Well,” he replied softly. “You are most welcome. It’s been good to have you here, little sister, despite our father’s machinations. It reminded me -” Lucifer cut off his words, not wanting to say that it reminded him of pleasanter times, not actually wanting to remember those times. Instead, he just said, his voice low, “I’ll miss you.”

And for a few minutes, all was quiet, with the exception of Azrael’s ragged breathing. Finally, though, she eased back, with a faint grimace for Lucifer’s jacket. “Sorry,” she murmured.

“Think nothing of it,” Lucifer replied, proving his love for his sister. “Should we go back?” he offered tentatively. “I would hate for dear old Dad to send someone else, if Yeshua isn’t returning you quickly enough.”

“I don’t want to go,” Azrael admitted, her breath catching on the last word. “But I have to. I know I do. And, Luci, I don’t know what’s going to happen with Dad, but I promise -”

“No,” Lucifer interrupted, his voice firm. “No promises, little sister. Nothing you might not be able to keep. I don’t want you to have to break your word for me.”

Azrael looked for a moment like she might argue, but then the reality of her situation struck her again and she nodded, her shoulders slumping in defeat. “If I broke my word for anyone, it’d be you. But I’ll try, how about that? I’ll try to come back soon.”

“Just remember,” Lucifer replied quietly, as he looked toward where the others waited, “ _Soon_ means something different to them.”

Nodding, Azrael agreed, “I’ll keep that in mind. Besides,” she added, with a weak smile, “There’s still that favor I owe you, and I’m in debt to Mazikeen, too.”

Lucifer lifted his hand to his breast pocket, though he asked, “My demon is doling out favors now as well?”

“Just the one, as far as I know,” Azrael hastened to reply. “Possibly a tactical error on my part.” She shook her head, though she didn’t look as concerned as she probably should have been.

“Most definitely,” Lucifer agreed. “Who knows what she’ll ask of you?”

Azrael hesitated, then said, her reluctance obvious, “We should probably go back.”

“Yes,” Lucifer agreed, getting to his feet. He gestured for Azrael to precede him, and she did.

All eyes turned to the siblings as they returned. “Ready?” Josh asked Azrael, as he approached the pair.

Azrael nodded. “As I’ll ever be,” she replied. She offered the group an awkward wave and a small smile. “Thanks, everyone,” she said, then turned to follow Josh toward the balcony.

Trixie called, “Rae, wait!” The angel paused, and Trixie hurried to her side. “Here,” the little girl said, shoving something soft into Azrael’s hands. “Maze said you like it, and it’ll keep you company. And Maze said to give you this, too,” she added, as a hard, metallic object ended up in Azrael’s hands as well.

Before Azrael could reply, Trixie dashed back to her mother, hiding her face against Chloe’s side. Azrael looked down to see the stuffed monkey that had been her sleeping companion that early morning on Chloe’s couch. The second object earned Maze a startled look. Though it was the same size as the knife she had lost at Chloe and Maze’s apartment, this blade held a slight curve, and had the distinct feel of demon-forged weaponry.

Maze met her gaze and then lifted her shoulders in a small shrug before turning away.

“Thanks, Trixie,” Azrael called. More quietly, she added, “Thank you, Mazikeen.” Turning back toward Josh, she nodded slightly, her hands curling around the combined weight of the toy and the knife. “Okay.” She took a breath and let it out slowly. “Let’s go.”

They stepped to the balcony, and a soft whoosh signaled their departure.

Lucifer moved to the entrance to the balcony. He knew they were gone; of course he did, but he had to check.

The balcony was empty. He sighed very quietly, his eyes closing.

After what must have been a few minutes, a small sound made Lucifer open his eyes. Trixie stood next to him; though he stiffened in preparation for an assault, she merely looked up at him, her expression woeful.

“Will she come back?” Trixie asked. “Mommy said she thinks so, but I know you’ll tell the truth.”

Lucifer took a deep breath, regretting for once his refusal to lie. “I don’t know, child,” he said finally. “And even if she does, it won’t be the same. She’ll be quite busy, you know.”

Trixie nodded solemnly, then extended her hand toward the Devil.

Maybe it was the fact that she offered her hand, rather than grabbing his. Maybe it was that he’d recently heard Chloe tell her offspring to wash her hands, so they stood a reasonable chance of being clean. It was, Lucifer decided firmly, definitely not the tears that stood in the child’s eyes that motivated him to take her hand and draw her a little closer, with an awkwardly murmured, “There, now.”

Trixie didn’t cling to him for once, her small fingers gently curling around his hand, and Lucifer asked her, “Shall we go look at the stars?”

Trixie nodded, and the pair headed out to the balcony.

Lucifer, glancing over his shoulder, caught Chloe smiling as she watched them and offered a sheepish smile in response.

She was the only one watching, Lucifer noticed. Dan and Charlotte were involved in what looked like an awkward conversation at the bar. Ella had, from the gestures she was making, had involved Maze in a conversation about bat’leths; the demon didn’t seem to be paying much attention. Amenadiel and Linda, seated on the couch, chatted convivially over one of Lucifer’s books; sadly, not one of the obscene ones.

They all accepted him, he realized: not as Lucifer Morningstar, playboy club owner, but as Lucifer, fallen angel, Devil.

Lucifer would not be grateful to his father for this. He would _not_.

But he could, he decided, be grateful to his sister.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am on Tumblr at [pixelbypixelfanfic.tumblr.com](https://pixelbypixelfanfic.tumblr.com) and would love some follows. :)


	7. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Azrael returns to the Silver City and gets some answers, though not as many as she would like.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your patience! This was a tough chapter to write, in part because I didn't want it to end. I hope you like it. The thoughts that Dad sends to Azrael are in bold.

By the time they reached the gates, Azrael had gone quiet. Why, after all the time in this body, did she suddenly feel so small?

“Ready?” Josh asked, and she nodded, nerves twisting her guts. She didn’t say anything; she knew her words would come out faint and weak.

Azrael stood before the gates for long enough that Peter, eyeing the stuffed monkey and the knife that she still held, started to look uneasy. She smiled at him, but that only seemed to make it worse.

Josh clasped his former disciple’s shoulder and spoke quietly to him; Peter, nodding, offered Azrael a smile and slipped away.

“Peter, leaving the gates?” Azrael asked, brows lifting.

“I’m pinch-hitting,” Josh replied, with a shrug. “Thought you might prefer less of an audience.”

Azrael nodded. “I… yes. Thank you.” She took a deep breath and pushed the gates.

They opened at her touch, as they always had: one hurdle crossed. She exhaled a soft, relieved breath, then flicked a glance over her shoulder at Josh, who smiled.

“Take your time,” he reassured.

So she did. Azrael wasn’t sure how long it took her to take that first step into the Silver City, but it eventually happened.

She had expected… well, that she would be restored as soon as she stepped through the gates, but only her clothing changed. Garbed in a smaller version of the black robes that she usually eschewed, she found herself longing for jeans, even skinny fit. And, really, she had liked that red dress; it had reminded her of her mother, for reasons that she hadn’t quite understood.

And they weren’t even her favorite robes, which of course were the ones that had embroidered skulls on both the robes and the wide-legged pants she wore underneath. Gabriel had given them to her as something of a joke; she always said she wore them ironically, and would never admit to how much pleasure that one small detail brought her.

Azrael saw her father’s hand in her clothing change. He always was a fan of the traditional. She, of course, was grimly, bitterly unsurprised. After all, he had changed her body; why not her clothing, too?

“What the hell, Josh?” Azrael protested, indicating her still-small self. “I look ridiculous. This body was not meant to wear robes.”

Frowning a little as he cast a worried glance over his shoulder, Josh cautioned, “Language.”

“Seriously? I’m still in this body, and you’re objecting to my _words_?” Azrael clutched Trixie’s toy a little closer, or perhaps it was the knife she clung to. Making an inarticulate noise of frustration, she muttered, “Why did I ever think that this would be easy?”

Josh studied Azrael, his gaze lingering on the toy. “You’re acting like a child,” he observed, sounding a little puzzled.

With a gesture that encompassed the entire length of her body, Azrael replied dryly, “I am as my father made me.” Her voice cracking, she added, “The reason I came back here was to get my body back, my powers. Is he just f–messing with me?”

“Rae, no.” Josh stepped closer, resting his hands on Azrael’s shoulders. “Of course he isn’t. He loves you. He does,” he added firmly, seeing Azrael’s skeptical look. “He just wants to talk to you first.”

Azrael made a wry face. “What, did he think I’d get my body back and take off?” And if he thought that, Azrael reflected, he might not be entirely wrong.

Josh didn’t say anything, but only squeezed Azrael’s shoulder, his expression compassionate.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Azrael muttered. Feeling the worst of her black mood ease under Josh’s touch, she added, “And don’t _do_ that. I want to feel what I feel.”

“All right.” Josh smiled, though Azrael’s relative equanimity remained, and she couldn’t find it in herself to regret that. Her brother continued, “Look, it’s going to be okay.”

Azrael shook her head. “What did you mean by telling Trixie that?” she demanded. “What if it isn’t okay? Haven’t we already messed with this kid enough? Linda already has plenty of clients, Josh,” she concluded, without humor.

Josh’s hands tightened on Azrael’s shoulders once more, and she looked up to meet his gaze. “Rae, it’s going to be okay,” he repeated, his voice emphatic, and she felt the depth of his sincerity.

Azrael took a deep breath, unwilling to believe him. “Saying that over and over isn’t going to make it true,” she said bitterly. “Look, if you can’t get specific, which, knowing our father, I’m sure you can’t, then please just don’t say anything. I can’t… I can’t get my hopes up.”

“Okay, then,” Josh replied gently, pulling Azrael close for a hug.

Azrael stiffened for a moment, then relaxed against her brother. “You’re just enjoying being taller than me,” she accused, and the vibration of his chuckle almost made her smile.

“Come on, let me have this,” Josh said, sounding amused.

“Fine,” Azrael muttered, but then she felt a gentle tug on her awareness: a summons. Pulling away from Josh, she said, with a sigh, “I have to go. He wants me.”

Josh didn’t ask who. “Good luck,” he replied.

Azrael tucked the stuffed monkey in one pocket and the knife in another, for of course the robes of the Angel of Death had many pockets. Then she unfurled her wings and exhaled a soft sigh, relieved that she wouldn’t need to go afoot like a penitent.

Turning back to Josh, she asked, “Do you know what he’s going to say?”

Josh shook his head, and Azrael considered her brother, wondering if he would have told her, had he known. Before her trip, her answer would have been an unqualified yes, but now she wasn’t so sure.

Shaking her head, she took to the air, singing under her breath, “You could beat the world. You could beat the war. You could talk to God, go banging on his door.” She exhaled a soft, amused sound. “Like he’d put up with that.”

Azrael didn’t dawdle in finding her father, but neither did she rush. She allowed herself to enjoy the beauty of the Silver City, relaxing a little in the familiar surroundings even as she drew closer to where her father’s presence felt the strongest.

Landing under the large tree where she had often hidden when she was small, she tried not to make too much of the fact that he had chosen this spot to meet. Was it to put her at ease, or was he claiming this place, somewhere she’d always thought of as _hers_?

She tucked away her wings and immediately felt a tendril of welcome.

**Daughter** , he greeted her, the feeling of his words appearing in her consciousness, and she braced her shoulders. **Be easy,** he added.

He hadn’t chosen a physical form. Azrael wasn’t surprised, but felt oddly disappointed.

“Father,” she replied, inclining her head, though the tiny part of her brain that wasn’t petrified noted her formal greeting and desperately wanted to call him ‘dear old Dad,’ just to see what he’d do.

The petrified part of her brain politely suggested that she keep her mouth shut, lest she get herself into trouble before she’d even been officially accepted back into the fold.

A breeze pushed Azrael’s hair back and straightened her robes, and she tried not to feel like the small children at St. Brennan’s whose parents licked a thumb to tidy their faces on the way into church.

**So you have completed your tasks.**

Tasks. Plural. She had suspected as much.

“I… suppose I have, since I’m here.” She considered her words. Not too snarky? She had tried to keep her tone neutral, but the fact that she was still in her mortal body had her on edge.

**You have spent time with humanity, and with Lucifer your brother.**

Azrael inclined her head, not quite trusting herself to speak.

**Well, daughter, what have you learned?**

Ah. One of those meetings. Azrael felt a flicker of resentment stiffen her spine. Hadn’t her father been paying attention? Did she now have to recap the whole experience? That tiny, inappropriate part of her brain heard Anthony Head intone, "Previously on _Buffy the Vampire Slayer,_ and she struggled, just for a moment, to keep a straight face.

“Everything?” she queried, stalling, and she felt her father’s wordless affirmative.

So. Everything.

Azrael took a breath.

She spoke for a long time.

She confessed her own shortcomings easily enough, certain that would please him: the drinking, and the disastrous first evening at Lucifer’s that resulted, drew a flicker of amused exasperation and the sense that she should have known better, which she acknowledged. The loss of temper which led her to bloody Amenadiel’s nose actually earned her a hint of pride that she had dared to stand up to her eldest brother, though she got the idea that her father preferred words to either fists or headbutts.

Words, Azrael decided, would have been far less satisfying. She chose to keep that thought to herself.

“You should forgive Amenadiel,” she ventured. “He’s good, Father. You know he is. He wants to please you, but sometimes you can be… hard to find.”

There was a flash of acknowledgment, and her father said, **Amenadiel has always judged himself more harshly than I ever would. He’ll find his way.**

Azrael started to reply, but then got the decided impression that she should continue with her report, rather than push the issue. She sighed.

She had nothing but good to say of the humans with whom she had spent most of her time. She spoke fondly of Linda’s keen insight, Ella’s good cheer and deep faith, Chloe’s fierce protectiveness, Trixie’s steadfast friendship.

“I’d like to talk about Trixie,” Azrael said suddenly. She felt the weight of her father’s regard and had her back pressed against the tree before she’d realized she had moved. She had forgotten how overwhelming he could be.

The presence eased somewhat; Azrael took a deep breath and stepped away from the tree, brushing bark from her robes.

**What about Trixie? **

Azrael hesitated, then said what she had been suspecting for some time. “Well, she’s special, right? And Chloe is, too, for that matter.”

**All humans are special.**

There was a certain finality to his tone, but Azrael persisted. “But they could see my wings, and they shouldn’t have been able to do that.” Her father didn’t reply, and Azrael said, trying to keep her voice even despite her irritation, “Yes, yes, they’re all special, but some of them are _more_ special.”

**Because you care about them,** her father replied, and he actually sounded pleased with her. Again. It was a little disconcerting. **You’d lost that, these past millenia.**

Azrael frowned a little. “Why in the world would I want to avoid getting close to the humans?” she muttered, some of that irritation creeping into her tone. She didn’t want to think too hard about mortal lifespans. Taking a calming breath, she added more carefully, “And of course I care about them, but I care about Ella, too, and she’s not the same.” She frowned thoughtfully as the mention of Ella sparked a memory. “Is it a genetic thing? Something Trixie and Chloe share? She sure didn’t get whatever it is from Dan,” she added, though not without a trace of affection for the man.

**Child, they’re all special,** her father repeated.

Azrael sighed. Dad forbid she get an actual straight answer from her father. She shoved her hands in her pockets, one hand curling around the stuffed monkey, the other gripping the knife. At least one of them, she reflected wryly, was an appropriate comfort object. “Which means you’re not going to tell me,” she said, keeping her voice light, her tone respectful. Polite. Careful.

Her father’s attention sharpened. **What do you have there?**

Azrael pulled out the stuffed monkey, keeping her other hand tucked out of sight. “Trixie gave it to me. Cute, huh?”

There came a hint of exasperation from her father, suggesting that, really, Azrael should know better than to try such things.

Azrael sighed. She did know better. “You know what it is,” she replied, frustrated. “Of course you do, but you’re still making me tell you.” She tucked away the monkey and pulled out the knife, though carefully, neither brandishing nor offering the blade. “Yes, it’s Hell-forged, and, yes, Mazikeen gave it to me. As I’m sure you already know.”

**You could use it to harm your siblings.** Her father’s tone was implacable.

“But I _wouldn’t_ ,” Azrael said, not quite an outburst, but close. She took a deep breath, then added, tone mostly joking, “Except maybe Michael. I’d only stab him a little, and only if he _really_ deserved it.” No response came from her father and she added, with a sigh, “I carried my Blade for most of my life and never harmed anyone with it. It was a… a symbol.”

**That’s not your Blade.** Her father’s unyielding tone brought to mind boulders and monoliths. **The consequences are not as great with that knife, so it would be easier to contemplate using it.**

Azrael curled her hand around the knife. “I suppose it would be,” she agreed. “But I wouldn’t use it against my siblings, not unless I was defending myself.”

Azrael suddenly had an image in her mind of the knife-training she had done with Mazikeen. She knew, of course, that her father had put it there. Her jaw tightened and she took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. She did been doing that a lot during the conversation, she realized.

“Are you saying that Mazikeen taught me those techniques and then gave me the knife in the hopes that I’d stab one of my siblings?” Azrael queried, with perhaps a touch more amusement than she actually felt. While she didn’t necessarily think that Maze would care enough to go to that much effort, she doubted that the demon would be upset to learn that the knife had ended up in an angel, particularly if said angel was Michael. And, really, Maze seemed more likely to act on impulse than to plan, to do the stabbing rather than manipulate someone else to stab.

No. Manipulation was more her father’s game.

**She’s a demon. I don’t think it’s so far-fetched.**

Azrael sighed. She likely would have thought the same, before her enforced trip to LA; her father had possibly not anticipated that her attitude about demons - well, one of them - had changed. Or maybe he had. “Father, in all the years that I carried my Blade, don’t you think I would have already picked up knife skills? I never wanted to have to use it, but I wanted to be ready if the time came. I was training with Mazikeen because… it was something to do, to figure out this body.” She was not about to admit that she’d enjoyed training with Maze, not to her father. She could barely admit it to herself. Her father didn’t reply, and she added, with a hint of exasperation, “And even if she did intend that, it’s not like I’m just going to do it. Don’t you trust me, Father?”

**I do.** His response was immediate, and Azrael couldn’t help but smile. She quashed that reaction, telling herself not to roll over for a pat on the head.

She deserved more.

“Thank you,” she replied, her voice quiet. “That’s good to hear.” She hesitated, then asked, “My Blade… why did it make my eyes turn black?”

**You shouldn’t have held it while you were in that body. That little demon encouraged you to -**

“Mazikeen,” Azrael offered. “Father, it wasn’t her fault. She didn’t put the Blade there.”

**Mazikeen,** her father agreed, drawing out the name in a way that Azrael did not like. **She tried to kill you. She put a knife to your throat.**

“Actually, she just threatened me,” Azrael observed, with a small, reflective smile. “If she’d really wanted me dead, I would have died. She certainly had the opportunity. More than one, in fact.”

Suddenly tired of standing, Azrael tucked the knife into her pocket and settled to a seat in seiza at the base of the tree, using two practiced strokes with her right hand to flick the wide legs of her pants out of the way. She folded her hands properly in her lap and inhaled a deep breath, carefully not mentioning that she could have easily defended herself from that knife at her throat if she had been in her usual form.

Well. Maybe not _easily_.

After a moment’s thought, Azrael added, “She was doing what she thought was right for Lucifer, and I’m glad. He needs someone to have his back who really understands.” She could feel her father’s disapproval and added, trying to change the subject, “But my Blade. If… if I had held it more, would it have restored my powers?”

**No, child.** Her father’s voice was gentle again, and Azrael relaxed, despite the niggling little question of how many millenia she would have to exist before her father finally stopped calling her a child.

**Your eyes just reacted to the presence of your Blade,** her father added. **You’ve carried it for long enough in your usual form that holding it in your current body caused that reaction. It was a warning, of sorts.**

Azrael nodded, agreeing quietly, “I’ve carried it for a very long time.” She took a moment, then asked something that she had wondered for eons, “Why did you give it to me?”

Her father actually sounded a little puzzled as he replied, **Well, it seemed appropriate that the Angel of Death carry it, all things considered.**

That, Azrael reflected, didn’t even come close to answering her question. For a purportedly omniscient entity, he was being awfully dense, though it was no doubt intentional. She decided to try again, to try and make him _see_. “But didn’t you think about what it would be like for me to carry it? It didn’t exactly make me popular with my siblings, being the bearer of the one thing that could destroy them.”

The first millenia after Lucifer’s exile had been the worst. Before, as one of the youngest of a very large family, she’d rarely even merited a second glance from many of her older brothers and sisters. Then Lucifer had been cast out, taking away one of the few siblings who had bothered to acknowledge her existence, and she’d been made Angel of Death not long after. Most of her siblings had started actively avoiding her at that point, either because she had earned their father’s disapproval or because she carried the Blade. It was only much later, when she hadn’t seemed inclined to use the weapon, that many of her siblings had become easy in her presence once more. By then, though, she spent much more time on Earth than in the Silver City.

She’d claimed it was the job, but it was easier on Earth. The humans didn’t know, so they didn’t judge. That hadn’t really worked out for her in the long run, though.

**Popularity wasn’t really my concern,** her father replied, though his voice seemed to hold some regret.

“Of course it wasn’t,” Azrael agreed quietly.

After a moment, her father said, **And it’s all going well now. Even Michael came to speak with me on your behalf while you were with the humans.**

Azrael sighed, not particularly appreciating that point. After all, Michael being relatively civil hardly made up for his past behavior, about which their father had never batted an eye. “Yeah, Michael’s great,” she agreed, her voice flat. “But going back to my Blade, will it still make my eyes change color?” _Because, really, it would be just the thing to increase that popularity,_ she thought sourly.

**It will be fine for you to have it again when you have been restored,** her father replied.

Azrael nodded thoughtfully. “So restoring me… that’s still the plan, right?” She kept her eyes on her folded hands, despite the fact that her father was, well, everywhere.

Azrael felt a reassuring affirmative from her father, and exhaled a soft, relieved sigh. “Thank you.” She didn’t ask when, but of course her father knew her question.

**Soon. When we have finished talking.**

An image of Lucifer flickered in her mind, prompting, and she hesitated. She thought about her brother and the promises she had made to him, then shook her head. She’d had the strength to leave the penthouse on the night Maze had threatened to kill her, something neither she nor Lucifer wanted. She decided that she could be strong again. “No,” she whispered.

The air temperature dropped suddenly, and Azrael hugged her robes a little closer, trying to fight back the thought of frost forming on a train window. Whatever else she’d thought of the Harry Potter movies, which she and Ella had binged over the course of a sugar-and-pizza fueled weekend that made her long for leafy greens, the Dementors had unnerved her. It was the mortal body, she had told herself; usually, she certainly wouldn’t have been afraid of creatures in black robes, fictional or not.

Azrael repeated, her voice louder but holding a distinct quiver, “No. I’m not going to tell you about him. He wouldn’t want me to do that, and I’m trying to be… better.” She inhaled sharply, straightened her posture, and said firmly, “You can see whatever you like, Father. You don’t need me to be your spy.”

Her vision blurred for a moment, and then he was there. Well, no, he’d always been there, but now he had a physical form. He wore the same body he’d had at her house, even down to the battered sweater. The air warmed and he said gently, as he settled to a seat next to her, “Child, I’m just trying to find out what you learned.”

Azrael tried very hard not to soften. _Manipulation,_ she reminded herself. “Weren’t you watching?” she demanded, her voice cracking. “Didn’t you _see_?” Her father didn’t answer, just regarding her steadily, and she snapped, “You don’t care what I learned. You just care if I follow the rules, and I _do_ , for the most part, even if I don’t understand why.” She met his gaze, just breathing for a moment, then said, “Here’s something I’ve learned: not to betray my brother. Because that’s what it would be if I reported on him to you.” She finally lowered her gaze. “Please don’t ask it of me, Dad.”

He didn’t speak right away, and it took all of Azrael’s self-control to keep her eyes on her folded hands. When she didn’t look at them, they trembled, so she kept watch, and they remained steady.

“Is this a rebellion, daughter?” His voice was very quiet, and held a slight edge. “I’ve looked the other way regarding your little indiscretions, but are you truly telling me no to my face?”

“I’m not!” Azrael looked up sharply, her eyes wide. Panic gripped her at the thought that she had gone too far, but, still, she didn't regret it. “Father, no. I’m not rebelling. I’m just asking you to reconsider your question. That’s all.”

Her father held her gaze for a long moment, unblinking, then inclined his head. “I withdraw the question.” He hesitated, then added, "Your loyalty to your brother is commendable, if misguided."

Azrael’s exhalation was quiet, but audible nonetheless. “Thank you, I think.” She eyed her father, then asked tentatively, “You sent me there so that Chloe and everybody would learn the truth about Lucifer, right?”

“In part,” her father agreed, and Azrael nearly lost her balance, partly due to the shock of getting a straight answer and also because her legs had gone numb. This body did not appreciate sitting seiza. Her father continued to speak as Azrael, wincing, stretched her legs. “Really, child, do you think he would ever give Chloe the proof that she needed?”

Azrael couldn’t help but smile at that. “It would have taken something extreme to get him to do that,” she agreed. “Will you tell me why, though? I mean, there wasn’t anything wrong with them not knowing.”

“Despite your brother’s claims of never lying, he wasn’t being truly honest with his friends.” Seeing Azrael’s raised eyebrows, he added, “They never would have believed without proof, which you gave them. And now his friends know the truth, and will be better able to support him in the times to come.”

Azrael went hot and then cold, a hard knot settling in her stomach. “What’s going to happen to him? Why does he need support, and from humans, so much that you sent me to do things that you said none of us should ever do?” He didn’t answer, and Azrael struggled to her feet, one hand grasping the tree for balance. “Father, please!”

“It’s not for you to know. But in the end, everything will be all right.”

Azrael smacked the tree with the flat of her hand. “I’m so sick of you and Josh giving me that _bullshit_ answer,” she exploded.

“Your brother is acting on my instructions.” Her father’s tone was crisp, but also held a hint of warning. “It’s better that you not know.”

Azrael closed her eyes for a moment, trying not to be too obvious in her frustration. Her voice tight, she asked, “Will Lucifer be all right, in the end?”

Her father nodded, though his expression cautioned her not to push him. “He will.”

Suddenly, Azrael wished that she had asked a more specific question, but she was reasonably certain she wouldn’t get any more out of her father on that topic. She could ask Josh, though he probably wouldn't tell her if he knew anything. Taking a measured breath, she asked, looking anywhere but at her father, “How did Raziel do as Angel of Death? Will… will he be continuing in the job?”

She felt a hint of wry amusement from her father. “That task proved to be a little too much for your brother,” he admitted. “I had to ask a few of your siblings to assist, and Metatron in particular to help with the record-keeping. The system you developed is… complicated.”

Azrael didn’t think so, but she’d also had millenia to create it. She took a deep breath and held it, trying to quiet the pounding of her heart. Could her father see how much she was shaking? She tucked her hands in the sleeves of her robes, the picture of devotion. At least the stupid clothing was good for something. “My siblings,” she said, careful to keep her voice even. “Will they be continuing in their new roles?”

Her father didn’t answer immediately, though a breeze rustled the branches over her head. She tipped her head back, trying to see the hiding spot Lucifer had showed her, and was seized with a brief surge of vertigo. “Some will, yes,” he said finally.

Azrael felt oddly numb, though she guessed that some emotion would soon emerge from the fog, be it elation or despair. “I…” She swallowed hard, then asked softly, managing to pull a coherent thought from the whiteout that was her brain. “What will you have me do?”

“You’ll be joining them, after you deal with a few things for me.” His father’s voice was even, smooth, and utterly devoid of anything that would help Azrael figure out what he meant. “When you’re finished this task, you can resume your job, but with help. The job is too demanding for just you. You should have time to yourself.”

Of course it had taken Raziel’s ineptitude to show him that. He couldn’t have gotten her help sooner. Still, this seemed like the perfect solution. But there had to be a catch; there always was. “What?” Azrael took a deep breath, her mind whirling, and tried again. “What things?”

“Your brother Remiel could use some help, and they know that you have Lucifer’s favor.”

“They know… in Hell? You mean the demons?” Azrael groped blindly for her tree, using it to ground herself to reality. “After all that I’ve done, you’re sending me to Hell?” Her father reached for her and Azrael flinched away, lifting a hand in a warding gesture.

“Just to help him get a few things straightened out, child. Then you can come home.” Her father turned away, adding, “This isn’t a punishment. It’s just that your mother’s escape has caused some trouble.”

Azrael made a sound that could have been a laugh. “How is it not a punishment? It’s _Hell_. That’s kind of the point, isn’t it?”

Her father gave her a long look. “Daughter, do you want damned souls escaping Hell, or demons? They could be drawn to your brother, you know, and to his human friends.”

Azrael pictured some of the more vile denizens of Hell, and what they might do. While she knew that Lucifer and Maze would protect their friends, she couldn’t take the risk. Closing her eyes briefly, she said, “I assume you’ll restore my body and my powers before I go.”

“Of course.” Her father considered her, adding, “That body is hardly intimidating.” He extended his hand, and this time Azrael allowed him to touch her. He rested his hand on the top of her head and she closed her eyes, her throat tightening. It was a blessing, she knew, and her heart pounder at the thought of what could await her in Hell.

Her father lifted his hand and Azrael shifted back to her regular form.

All the little aches of her mortal body vanished - really, how did the humans bear it? - and she felt a surge of strength fill her. She took a breath and loosed her wings, relieved to see that they, too, had returned to their usual size.

Azrael felt… strange. Too large, and a little off-balance, and almost dizzy with strength and power. Had she grown so used to the limitations of her mortal body? Her hand brushed against the knife in her pocket, and she wondered just who would win, if she and Maze sparred.

She stretched and then inspected the dark curls that pooled past her ribs. Her hair was longer than she liked, but that was easily fixed. She braided it back, securing it with a hair tie that she found in another pocket.

Though she’d never been one for vanity, Azrael fought back the sudden desire to find a mirror, just to be sure she was really herself again. Everything felt right, if oddly unfamiliar, but she still wasn’t sure what her father might have changed.

Azrael leaned against the tree, letting it support her as it had so many times in the past. She passed a hand across her face and then, straightening, turned back to her father. Now that she had her body back, she could say some of what was on her mind. “You manipulated me, Dad.” She spoke slowly, trying to find the right words for thoughts she should have expressed ages ago. “Bad enough that you took away my body and my identity, but then you sent Michael to the church after Chloe and Trixie found out, because you _knew_ I wouldn’t leave without telling Lucifer what had happened. And then, after you pissed off Luci at my house, Josh could use that to convince him to take me back, so I could keep at my _tasks_ , as if that’s all that mattered.”

“Child -” her father began.

“I was _scared_!” It was a cry of protest, of betrayal. “I thought I’d missed out on my one chance to get my body back. You made me choose between that and my brother. How could you do that to me? How could you hurt any of us like this? You pushed Luci away long before exiled him; you drove him to rebel. And Uriel would probably still be alive if he hadn’t been so desperate to prove himself to you. You… do you even realize how much you’ve messed up your children, how damaged we are? Do you even care?”

Her father stepped toward Azrael, then took a closer look at his daughter’s expression and stopped. “I do care, daughter,” he replied, his voice gentle. “I care very much. But there are things that have been set into motion that you can’t understand.”

“Ah.” Azrael nodded, not looking surprised by the lack of both explanation and apology. “So all our suffering, it’s for the greater good, is that it?” Her father nodded, looking a little relieved, though that expression faded when Azrael said flatly, “Fuck the greater good. Sometimes you just need to step up and be a good parent, put your children first for a change.”

She turned away, and her father asked, “Where are you going?”

“Hell,” Azrael replied, her voice tight with pain. She wouldn’t look at her father as she said, “Because even though I know you manipulated me into it, I still don’t want my friends to come to harm.”

“Azrael.” She turned, startled by his use of her name, wryly thinking that it was nice to have proof that he remembered it. Her father regarded her steadily. “When you have finished helping your brother, come home.”

Azrael inclined her head. “When I’m done,” she agreed coolly, “I’ll go home.”

She unfurled her wings and took to the air, taking one last flight over the Silver City before she left for Hell.

She knew the way.

She had work to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading this! Though I've written others since I started, this series was my first fanfic, and is very dear to my heart. Extra thanks to those of you who have left kudos and comments, and virtual baked goods of your choice if you've left multiple comments.
> 
> I was really nervous about putting this out there, but Lucifer fans are the best. <3


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